


The Potions Master

by MIZUM0NO



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 70,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MIZUM0NO/pseuds/MIZUM0NO
Summary: "Did you hear? The new professor used to be a professional Quidditch player for the Falmouth Falcons!""That would make her awfully young to be a professor, wouldn't it?""Well, yeah, young and beautiful she is, compared to our other professors!""Do you want to make a bet how long she'd last with god-awful Snape around?"In which the Defence Against the Dark Arts substitute professor engages in a tumultuous, and complicated relationship with the Potions professor.(The story will follow in accordance with the Philosopher's Stone, set in 1991-1992)
Relationships: Severus Snape & Reader, Severus Snape/Reader
Comments: 131
Kudos: 563





	1. The Fall That Started It All

16th November, 1990

It was familiar, the feeling. Whizzing through the air as the crowds roared in the stands below, the cheering for both teams distinct and the anticipation strong. It was the final preliminary round for the Quidditch World Cup, one more team to conquer and your team would enter the finals. The pressure was on, for the Falmouth Falcons simply could not lose this match. _Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads,_ the motto that rang through your mind before every match was repeated again and again even as you flew past Kenneth Broadmoor, captain of the team and descendant of the notorious Broadmoor brothers of the same team. He gave you a smirk as your eyes frantically tried to locate the Golden Snitch, but you could only smile uneasily as a significant time had passed and neither teams could spot where the Snitch even was. Thus, the familiar feeling, a mix of excitement, enthusiasm, and dread. Often times, the dread came later on, when the excitement from the crowd had died down and both teams were scrambling to chase the Snitch and win the match, but today, the dread came early. It wasn't the dread of the other team spotting the Snitch and catching it first, leaving your team in the dust, the dread that anything could happen that would convince the fans that the Falcons Seeker was not as revered, not as impressive, as the sports section of the Daily Prophet made her out to be. No, the dread today was different, it was the dread that happened the last time when Kenneth was knocked straight off his broom and had to spend months recovering his broken spine, the dread that caused the Keeper of the Falcons to get knocked in the head so badly he had to have himself checked into a Muggle ER to get his brain operated on. No, this familiar dread was worse than the regular dread you felt, it was familiar, and not in a very pleasant way. 

Another ten minutes passed as both Seekers still had difficulty locating the Snitch, and the audience were starting to get restless. You grabbed your broom and did another sweep around the stadium, desperate for even a glimpse of the Golden treasure, but to no avail. With your head drooped, you could see that the Chasers were starting to get tired, and you felt bad that you had let the match go on this long. Just as you were about to signal to Kenneth for a timeout, however, a flash of gold appeared at the corner of your eye, and it awakened every nerve in your body. The opposing team's Seeker must have caught it as well, as soon enough, the both of you were racing each other at breakneck speed to chase after the Snitch that made its presence finally known. The roars of the crowd got impossibly louder, but with the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you managed to tune out all the noise around you. All you could hear was the fluttering of the wings of the Snitch, your breathing, and the breathing of the Seeker beside you. Gripping your broom impossibly harder, you gave a final push that you knew would give you at least a head's length away from the other Seeker. However, it did not work, for the other Seeker simply swerved a little to the left and matched your speed and place. Trying a few more tactics to rid the opponent, but failing greatly to do so, you realised that you were at odds. 

There was only one trick left. It was risky, and would no doubt be difficult to do, but you had practiced. Hours spent in the Falcons home pitch practising with Kenneth had prepared you for this moment. You both agreed it was dangerous to do, and that it should not be done until all other options were exhausted, but you were getting tired, and the options were quickly getting exhausted as well. Slowly removing your hands from the end of your broom, you silently cursed as you reached them out as far as they would go, hoping the angle would make the Snitch easier to catch. However, at the exact moment, the opposing Seeker had other plans, as he attempted a Wronski Feint. You knew you would not fall for his tricks, however, your heart started to pound as the Snitch shockingly dived as well, and you had no choice but to follow, your hands still grasping onto thin air. The other Seeker noticed the diving Snitch, and in an attempt to intercept it, he quickly shot up, his hand outstretched. In a moment for horror for the both of you, his broomstick collided roughly with your diving body, sending you spiralling off into the air with nothing to grasp on to, since both your hands had been trying to do the risky manoeuvre of catching the Snitch without holding on to the broomstick. You heard the collective gasps of the crowd as you fell from the impossibly high angle you had been knocked out of, and you knew you were in trouble. _So this was what the dread was for,_ you thought as you felt the blood in your ears roar and stared at the shock-stricken face of your teammates around you as you fell. The last thing you heard was Kenneth's blood-curling scream before you hit the ground and everything faded into pitch-black.

When you came to, you instantly recognised the stench of St. Mungo's sterile sheets and equipment. Cursing instantly, you attempted to rip off the sheets and head straight back to the game, where your team was waiting. Instead, you felt the reassuring warmth of the Falcons' captain's hand on yours, his smile faint but visible. 

"Ken, I have to go back, they're waiting for me to catch the Snitch! How long has time-out been imposed?!" You cried as he gave only a faint smile, sadness in his eyes. 

"The game's over, (y/n). We..." he attempted to look you in the eyes but finally shifted his gaze, "...Didn't win".

You felt as if a massive truck had hit you and your heart dropped to your stomach. _I, I trained so hard, day and night, to finally win the Quidditch Cup...and it was all for naught?_ You could only look at Kenneth in disbelief, his mouth moving to utter more words, but your brain had tuned out his voice, instead making him look like a talking mime. The past years with the Falcons flashed before your eyes, being scouted straight after graduating from Hogwarts, training tirelessly day and night for the team until you were allowed to move off the bench and play your first match, celebrating wins and embracing losses with the team, with all your effort in the past years leading up to the moment the Falmouth Falcons trump the league and move off to the Quidditch World Cup to compete with other Quidditch teams around the world. However, the pain that suddenly shot up your left leg was a jarring strike back to reality, and Kenneth's concerned voice filled your mind once more. 

"As I was saying, (y/n), effective today, the Falmouth Falcons will no longer have you as our main Seeker anymore, I'm sorry," He gripped your hand tighter, as you felt the second piece of bad news that night strike. "It's just, your injuries were so severe that, even with years of recovery and healing, you won't be able to play Quidditch professionally without risking severely injuring your leg anymore."

Looking incredulously at him, you felt the tears creep through your eyes, until you could hold the gushing river no more as you wept bitterly into the Falcons' captain's arms. 

18th February 1991

"Have you got everything?" Kenneth softly broke your train of thought as he wheeled you out of the hospital room, wanting to accompany you home. After spending months in the white-walled, eerily quiet hospital of St. Mungo's bored out of your mind trying to recover, you were finally approved to go home, provided no strenuous activity was involved and you had someone to accompany you. Kenneth graciously jumped at the opportunity to do so. Perhaps he felt bad for being the one having to kick you out of the team, or for having ruined your career over an accident you could not possibly control, or for perhaps, in the slightest chance that he genuinely, wanted to be your friend. That the years spent training with you were fond to him, and he wanted to be there for you, as a friend, finally, and not a teammate or captain that was there only to help you improve your tricks or work through your shortcomings as Seeker. You quickly shrugged the thought away. After all, the Broadmoors were known to be violent, brash, and overall not having a heart for anybody else's interests but their own. You reminded yourself that Kenneth was simply there to take you home and leave you with the fact that you were not only jobless, but void of anything you had worked for in your life. 

"Ken, I can take care of myself perfectly fine. I don't even need the wheelch--" You attempted to brush him off, but he only hushed you and proceeded to take the rest of your items you had with you during your stay. 

21st June 1991

In the following months after your accident, you desperately tried to find Quidditch teams to join after you had regained full mobility, to no avail. After all, which team would want to hire an injured, reckless Seeker with her entire accident incident recorded in the front pages of the Daily Prophet even weeks after it happened, with the story so gripping that you quickly became a household name for the worst injuries that could happen to a Quidditch player.

 _FALMOUTH FALCONS SEEKER NEARLY DEAD; READ HOW IT HAPPENED ON ONE OF QUIDDITCH'S MOST DANGEROUS PLAYS YET!_

The headlines were filled with your name, and throughout the hospital staff at St. Mungo's, at least half of them had come to ask you to sign their Quidditch cards, with them muttering sadly that as great as the Falcons were, your injury would inevitably drag them to the bottom of the league, that their glory days were over. The words stung, and you felt sorry for the team, vowing to apologise to each of them once you could visit them on their next training session. 

With Quidditch now being a faraway dream, you decided to steel yourself back to reality and find normal jobs, like all the other wizards and witches. Sighing as you gripped the steaming mug of tea closer to your face, you began thinking of careers that were at least tolerable; though none would bring you the same joy Quidditch brought. 

Being an alchemist? You were pretty good at alchemy back in Hogwarts, with Dumbledore even impressed with some of your work. A physician? You did always did better with subjects pertaining to mathematics and science. For a little fun, you could also try being an author, with wizards with as much bullshit as Gilderoy Lockhart being able to publish successful books, why couldn't you? You grinned, as you threw your list aside and decided to tire for the night. Being a professional Quidditch player did come with its perks; such as the high pay grade, which would allow you to live comfortably without a job for longer, however, it was indeed in your best interest to start looking soon. The four walls of your apartment were starting to bleed into one and you were afraid you were going to lose your mind if you stayed stuck at home any longer. 

The next morning, however, you were rudely awakened by your owl, Athena's, incessant pecking. You groggily opened your eyes and requested her to leave whatever letter she had between her beak at the table, you would get to it later. However, it seemed like she was in no hurry, for she continued pecking you until you unhappily woke up from your slumber and grabbed the letter. Athena squawked as if to say _finally!_ , before returning to her cage. You wondered what kind of letter had to be so urgent that Athena decided you needed to wake up immediately and read it, and as you ripped it open, you finally knew why. Gazing towards the now proud owl, you read aloud the words. 

You were invited to teach your favourite subject back in Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

Albus Dumbledore wanted you as a professor.


	2. At Crossroads

23rd June 1991

"I still think you should do it, you know," Kenneth managed between munches of the chocolate frogs you kept stashed away in your kitchen cabinet in fear that he would finish them all every time he comes over; today, however, he had found them, "-I mean, it's not everyday _Albus Dumbledore_ personally writes a letter requesting for your service in his school!" 

You glared at him and his chocolate-covered front teeth. "I don't even like teaching! Even worse, teaching _children_!" 

"You seemed to do pretty well teaching every new, freshly-graduated Seeker back then," Kenneth retorted, and you huffed.

"That was different! It's Quidditch, there is nothing to teach! All I had to do was to ensure they _didn't_ screw up! Those people were already naturally talented, but children, oh children? They're loud, annoying, stubborn, but infinitely curious, in an irritating way!"

With a final sigh, Kenneth could only smile. "Sounds a lot like you, (y/n)."

"I am none of those things!" You yelled, but he was already out of earshot, proceeding to steal more chocolate frogs. 

30th June 1991

With the end of Dumbledore's gracious offer in sight, you realised you only had a few days left to decide to accept or turn it down. Defence Against the Dark Arts was of your interest, after all, being an Auror did also cross your mind in the brief moment you were looking for jobs, but to go back to Hogwarts and teaching _students_ about it was a whole different ball game. Not to mention you would probably be one of the youngest, no, definitely _youngest_ professor there. 

You could take the lessons you learned teaching there as experience, a temporary job that would fill your time and pockets while you continued the search for a professional Quidditch team again. With a resigned sigh, you rubbed your eyes and moved to grab the letter that had been collecting dust for the past week and a half on top of your dresser. Intending to only hold a temporary position and informing Dumbledore that you would leave the moment you could play Quidditch again, you signed the letter and woke Athena. She excitedly grabbed the piece of paper straight from your hands with her beak, and flew off. Watching her snow white wings flutter in the air, you are reminded once again of the other precious item that had wings you could distinctly remember; the Golden Snitch. Silently, you retired back to your bed, gazing once again at the medals and trophies of your past victories with the Falcons. 

_Even my owl is sick and tired of me moping at home._

25th August 1991

A week before the new school year started, Dumbledore had invited you to come in early before the students to familiarise yourself again with the Hogwarts castle and teaching staff. As a student, you distinctly remembered the complicated layout of the seven-storey high building, complete with its many towers and turrets and cold, cold dungeons. However, now the memory came a little fuzzy, and you realised it would be good to go back a little earlier and see if there were any changes the castle had gone through in the years that you were gone. Most importantly, he wanted you to build relationships with the staff, _not wanting you to feel left out_ he says, and you smiled thinking of Dumbledore's warm, welcoming ways that stretched far beyond his students, to even his staff and the people around him. 

And so you packed your bags, with Kenneth willingly coming over to help after his practice session. The day was slow, with faint music and Kenneth's singing in the background accompanying your thoughts as your eyes ran over your Quidditch achievements a final time before clearing out your room. Knowing you could not take everything with you to Hogwarts, you carefully thought through which memorabilia was worth the most to your time with the Falcons. Brushing your eyes across the medals and trophies, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness when it came to them. After all, they were just precious metals molded into the shapes that determined your wins and losses with the team. Your glory days with them were over, but as you lay eyes on the photographs framed above your desk with the team, you felt something stir in your heart. _These are my people,_ you thought. Because even beyond the training sessions and games you went through, your teammates stuck with you through everything. Even months after the injury and your departure from the Falcons, you could still feel the sense of camaraderie every weekend when Kenneth and the team came over for dinner at your apartment. You knew instantly what to bring with you as you gazed at their happy faces moving and smirking playfully to the camera. As an afterthought, you included the photograph of you and Kenneth you had on your desk as well, thinking he was the closest thing you had to a best friend then. 

On the way to the train station, Kenneth seemed distracted. You almost wanted to ask him if something was wrong, but things seemed good now, and you didn't want to ruin things, especially if you were going to spend the next few months far away from him. He was going to play Quidditch like before, while you were moving on to something new in your life. You wondered if your lives were meant to be like this; a tangent. You would meet him once, have an impossibly good time with him, before parting ways forever and never speaking to him ever again. You sincerely hoped not, Kenneth was one of the main reasons you managed to get through these past few months, and you would hate to lose him just like this. 

"Kenneth, promise me something," you sighed upon reaching the station and unloading your bags into the cart. 

"Mhm," he looked elsewhere, distracted again. In the years you've known him, you've never seen him this troubled, this worried. He was always so confident, so cocky, always bossing people around and making them laugh in the process as well. It was one of the factors that made him such a well-liked captain and teammate of the Falcons. But now, the man in front of you was a shadow of his usual self. He fidgeted with his fingers, shifted uncomfortably from time to time, and suddenly anywhere else was more interesting to look at than your eyes. 

"Write to me every week, alright? I will do the same as well, or even more frequently if I can. I will send Athena to you, and update you on how things are in Hogwarts, while you update me on the Falcons. I...I don't want to lose you," you muttered as you gripped the sides of his arms, worry etched into your face. 

"Y-yeah, of course. Of course I will, (y/n). Don't worry about me. "

It looked like he had wanted to say something more, something that had been the cause for his troubles, but as he opened his mouth, the loud honk of the Hogwarts Express train broke both your gazes at each other. You pushed him to finish what he was saying, telling him time was not on your side, but he only gave a faint smile, the same smile he sported when you woke from your stiff hospital bed in St. Mungo's. 

"Stay safe, (y/n)," was all he managed to say. Glancing back at the train, you gave him a final hug, squeezing as tight as you could, his head on your shoulders and his arms around your waist. Letting go, you smiled at him and waved goodbye before narrowly hopping onto the train right before the doors closed. 

Trying to ignore your concerns over Kenneth, you focused on the future in front of you, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

26th August 1991

Thanks to the train you boarded being the midnight train, you managed to catch a few winks of sleep before the train began to slow and arrive at Hogwarts at the break of dawn. The ride was rather pleasant, you forgot how long it was since the last time you had been anywhere other than your apartment and the Quidditch field. Experiencing the little things like being on a train ride was unfamiliar, but still pleasant. 

With the conductor signalling the end of your journey, you groggily got up and opened the train compartment, when a sudden sharp pain burst through your left leg. Wincing, you suddenly remembered it was the leg you harshly landed on during the accident, and every now and then, it would still hurt occasionally if you ended up doing anything too strenuous, and today was just one of those days you guessed. Although, the pain did seem to be worse than before, and with a sense of urgency that you would be late for your meeting with Dumbledore, you attempted to ignore it, and pushed yourself off the train. 

Trudging towards the entrance, you did notice the pain flaring occasionally, although now you were getting more used to it and could walk without limping too much. The castle was not far ahead, and in your attempt to squint, you could suddenly see the small yet welcoming stature of Filius Flitwick, the Charms professor and head of the Ravenclaw house, where you spent your time at Hogwarts in. He did not change one bit, with his round glasses and moustache still being the most defining parts of him. Indeed, he was one of your favourite professors in Hogwarts, aside from not only being a caring Head of House, he also cared for his students and was always fair and kind to them. Admittedly, Charms was not your specialty, but he never seemed to mind. 

"Professor Flitwick!" You yelled as you closed the distance, grinning at him. 

"Ah, (y/n), you've grown! I still remember you as the tiny, aggressive Seeker that made Ravenclaw proud by winning the Quidditch cup for two years in a row!" Even his voice had not changed. 

"Of course, professor."

"You can call me Filius now, since we appear to be colleagues!" He said excitedly, before leading you inside the castle. You chuckled and followed him. 

Not to your surprise, however, that Hogwarts had not changed one bit. The castle was still exactly the same as when you graduated, and a sense of nostalgia hit you as you followed Flitwick through the steps now leading to the staffroom. Upon reaching the ground floor, you suddenly realised you would now be meeting with not only Dumbledore, but the entire staff of Hogwarts, for you could hear Professor McGonagall's voice from inside. They appeared to be arguing, but with the years you spent in the school, you knew it was not uncommon for the professors to not be on the same page. Turning to Flitwick, you noticed his eyes flickered with what appeared to be...doubt. 

"Is there something I should know, professor?" You inquired. 

Shaking his head, he proceeded to say, "(y/n), I hope you don't mind, but if you must know, you are not the _only_ Defence Against the Dark Arts professor Dumbledore proceeded to hire. With the recent events and rumours surrounding You-Know-Who," Flitwick paused for a moment to gather himself, "He thought it would be wise to have two professors instead, to allow the students a more comprehensive experience when learning of the Dark Arts."

It certainly was a shock, for sure, that Dumbledore had failed to inform you of this, but nevertheless, you were not perturbed. Besides, you were new, and having to carry the weight of the entire Defence Against the Dark Arts syllabus for the school was daunting, and having a partner to split it with you was certainly more affirming. Smiling towards Flitwick, you declared, "No, of course I don't mind." 

"However, I did think I was only to meet Dumbledore." You continued. 

"Dumbledore wanted to welcome you both with an audience," Flitwick answered. "Just, don't be too nervous. McGonagall, as you know, has the kindest heart, Sprout has always been welcoming, hasn't she? And Snape, don't you worry about him, as long as you don't bother him, he won't pose much of a problem to you." 

Somehow Flitwick's words did nothing to reassure you when you were about to open the door to face your previous professors, but it was too late, for no sooner than he had finished speaking, Flitwick opened the door leading to the staffroom. 

"Ah, (y/n), how nice of you to join us! Professors, this will be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, along with Professor Quirrell, as I have introduced you to earlier," Dumbledore's loud and booming voice greeted you as you entered. The crowd of professors erupted in applause, with some of them smiling and congratulating you. Your eyes scanned over the crowd, looking through each familiar face, until it landed on a fidgety, rather skinny man with a turban on his head. His eyes twitched back and forth between you and Dumbledore, and you instantly recognised him as your companion for the Defence Against the Dark Arts subject. 

Going around the table to introduce yourself, you finally found a seat beside Professor Quirrell as Dumbledore proceeded then on with his address. He addressed the new school term, new rules that had to be implemented because of the mischievous Fred and George Weasley, which earned snickers from around the table, and finally, the matters regarding the rumours surrounding The Dark Lord. 

"As much as you can, teachers, it is your job as educators to reassure the students, ensure that everything is okay at all times, ensure that Hogwarts is the safest place they could ever be in, and that any matters regarding the return of The Dark Lord are untrue and it would do them a whole lot of good if it wasn't discussed. Especially you two," He pointed to you and Quirrell, "Your jobs are of utmost importance." 

The meeting went on for another hour, until Dumbledore finally concluded that you could return to your personal quarters if there were no further matters to be discussed. Everyone seemed to agree and started to shuffle out of the rooms, leaving you suddenly stricken with the fact that you did not know where your quarters were; or if you even had personal quarters at all; considering you had to share everything so far with Quirrell, from your materials to even the classroom. Dumbledore asking the both of you to split one personal quarter would not be surprising at this point. Looking around uneasily, you were about to speak up until a soft, contained voice beside you spoke up before you did. 

"Most fortunately for you, Dumbledore has set aside another room for your personal quarters, avoiding the chance that you have to share anything else with that twitchy wizard. Most unfortunate for me, would be that your quarters would be down the hall from mine." You turned towards the voice of the Potions professor of the school, Severus Snape. Just like the others, he did not change as well. His jet-black hair still reaching his shoulders (although now that you looked closer, it was not greasy, like your classmates would often tease when you were a student, instead it looked soft and conditioned), his eyes still boring into your soul, and his stature still stood firm, demanding authority and gravitas from anyone he was speaking to. You caught yourself looking him up and down, unable to utter a word because of how off-guard the professor had caught you. Usually he did not prefer initiating conversations, you learnt through the countless consultations and scoldings you received during your stay in Hogwarts. It was always the person he was speaking to that would have to initiate the conversations, if not the both of you would be standing there, facing each other, like awkward geese. So yes, it was a big deal that the Potions professor did take the first step to talk to you first. 

"Is there something wrong, Professor (l/n)? Because I haven't got all day to walk you through to the dungeons. And if you would prefer walking through the castle yourself until you find your quarters only in the next year, I would not mind either. Saves me a whole lot of trouble," he continued, hinting at the fact that Hogwarts truly did seem like a maze, with stairs leading to nowhere and passageways that were so misleading it would take a newcomer years to familiarise themselves with its layout. However, Snape's words did cut you back to reality, and you took a minute to gather your composure before replying him. Snape never liked nervous people, and to ensure you had a smooth term with him in it, you would have to at least get on his good side.

"No, Professor Snape. And of course, please, in fact, lead me to the dungeons. I wouldn't want it any other way." You smiled, and there was a brief moment in which something flashed in his eyes, an emotion you could not place. However, as quick as it was, he suddenly stood, silently walking towards the door, and left the room. You realised you now had to hurry to catch up with him, remembering the professor always walked quickly, stealthily, and never stopping for anyone else. Bolting out of your seat, you ran to chase after the black-haired man.


	3. The Tour Guide

26th August 1991

To nobody's surprise, Severus Snape was not a talker. The journey down to the dungeons was eerily silent, save for the huffed breaths you took every once in a while, trying to alleviate the flaring pain in your knee while still keeping up with the potions professor. He stayed silent throughout, even though you were sure he was slightly irritated every time you called out for him to walk a little slower to allow you to catch up. _Why did Dumbledore thought it would be a smart idea to place my quarters in the dungeons anyway? Now not only do I have to memorise the agonisingly long route to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, I have to walk past Snape's bat-like quarters each time I want to go anywhere else as well,_ you thought, and you considered voicing out those opinions the next time you saw Dumbledore, before you caught yourself. 

Dumbledore was kind enough to offer you this job, furthermore, he still graciously offered you your own private quarters, instead of having to share with Quirrell, who, in your few minutes of knowing him, did not seem like a very good roommate. You decided against the notion of unhappily reporting your state of living, and sucked it up for the school year. Perhaps, if after this semester, no Quidditch team still wanted you, and you (god forbid) had to stay longer in the teaching profession, you could voice your concerns then. Smiling smugly at your decision, you did not realise you were all in your head until you felt your body bump softly into the person in front of you. 

"Watch it." Came the stern voice of Professor Snape, and you retreated slightly in shock when you found out it was him that you had collided into. _Oh Merlin, that was so embarrassing,_ you thought as you felt your cheeks go slightly red and quickly apologised to him. He replied with a grunt and a look of indifference before handing you a set of keys. 

"These are the different keys to your office, which is connected to your quarters, and the keys for your classroom and staffroom. Don't lose them, I would hate to be woken up in the night or disturbed in the day by your recklessness in misplacing your items," he warned, and you felt a sense of anger stir a little at the bottom of your stomach. _Bold of him to assume I would lose these things, I'm a Ravenclaw, for Merlin's sake! I would never lose my mind and misplace items like these!_

"I'm confident that I would not need to inquire for your help, Professor, but thank you." You decided that short, curt, answers were suitable for Snape. Keep the conversations short, and you would not risk getting on his bad side. 

"I'm sure you will. " And with that, he turned in a dramatic pose, flinging his bat-like coat behind him, and silently strode back to his own quarters, which upon looking closer, you realised, was nearer to your quarters than you thought. You grinned, remembering his dramatic antics from your schooling days and you were slightly relieved he had not changed one bit. 

27th August 1991 

Mornings have never been your thing, you preferred the quiet of the night, when most were asleep and your thoughts could run loud. The stillness of the night, when nothing could disturb you and it felt like you had the whole world to yourself, gave you the same satisfaction as being able to train at ungodly hours on the Falcons home pitch with Kenneth, the only one who could be bothered to accompany you to ensure you didn't kill yourself falling off your broomstick. With that being a faraway memory now, the quiet nights were your only respite, something you could hold onto that you knew would last forever. Never fond for material items, you found it was experiences that thrilled you most, experiences that you hoped someday could keep in a jar to relive over and over again. Material items would simply wear and tear through use, but experiences, they were forever. 

At least, mornings had never been your thing until Severus Snape. 

Two loud, clear raps on your door woke you from your first slumber in Hogwarts. Grumbling as you reached for your bedside clock, you realised that it was merely four in the morning. Usually, you would _train until four in the morning_ with Kenneth, not wake up at that timing. Having only fallen asleep three hours prior, you hoped the visitor had a damn good excuse for waking you up this early. Shuffling to put your warm slippers on, you opened the door to your quarters with an unhappy _click_.

Suddenly you felt your face drain of colour. _What on earth is he doing here? It's four in the morning!_ You thought as you could only stare back into the stormy eyes of the Potions professor. Your mouth dry, you could only watch as he struggled to maintain eye contact, a slight pink tint gracing his cheeks. _Must be the colder morning air around here,_ you thought as you studied his face incredulously. 

"Professor (l/n), the Headmaster has requested for you to receive a tour of the castle on your first day here. I will meet you at the staircase landing in fifteen minutes." He nodded curtly, not giving you a chance to respond as he reached forward and slammed the door shut, retreating back to where he came. 

Stunned out of your mind, you wondered why on earth Dumbledore decided _Snape_ was the perfect choice to be your tour guide, considering his reserved and stoic nature. Perhaps McGonagall would have been a better match, or even Flitwick, for Merlin's sake, you knew him well! Severus Snape was awkward, snarky, and rude; qualities tour guides do not often possess. Huffing as you blew a strand of baby hair from your face, you suddenly came across your own reflection in the mirror across your bedroom, and groaned. 

_He saw me like this!_ You internally cursed as you realised in your haste to snuggle into bed the previous night, you had only worn your father's rather old, but comfortable work shirt under a pair of undergarments, and the lack of lower garments had been what caused the pink tint on Snape's face. Great, it was barely the first day, and you had already exposed yourself embarrassingly to the Potions professor of your school. Casting a charm to gather yourself and stepping into clean robes for the day, you sighed as you left your quarters with an even redder tint splayed on your features than the one Snape had before.

Not daring to look into his eyes as you arrived, he only seemed to give you a brief look as well, as if to acknowledge your presence. 

"I noticed the slight limp in your gait as we were returning to the dungeons last night. I trust that it has healed fully and that you would not be needing a wheelchair today?" His voice filled your thoughts. Once again, he had been the one to break the silence between you two. 

"I feel better now, thank you, Professor," you replied, not knowing what else to speak to him about. He was still snarky as ever, and to be honest, treating you like a child, but after the morning's events that occured in your room, you were in no mood to discuss your unhappiness with him, hoping the memory could be quickly forgotten from both your minds. His lips lifted, as if to say something, but he thought better of it and suddenly began moving. This time, though, you immediately noticed his pace was slower, more relaxed. Smiling softly to yourself, you almost wanted to thank him but decided not to say anymore that would break the silence that had settled between the both of you as you walked through the endless rooms and hallways of the Hogwarts castle. 

"This is the Slytherin common rooms. The students will be coming back in the next few days or so, and you and I will not have as much peace as you had last night. Prepare yourself for the occasional student coming in to report a fight, an accident, whatever." The man informed as he stopped in front of the Slytherin towers and allowed you a brief moment to scan your eyes through the shades of green and silver. It was the final stop of the quick tour, as Snape did not see much reason to show off so many parts of the castle when you could do it yourself in your own time. You had the skills to guide yourself back to your room if you were ever lost. _Think of it as a sort of courtesy, Severus. She's young, she will probably have a harder time making friends with the lot of you,_ Dumbledore had mentioned, but he could only mumble disapprovingly, drawing the short end of the stick being appointed as your tour guide since he lived closest to you, for convenience. As a student, you had never had the opportunity to visit the other Houses' towers, so this was something marvelling to you. Sure, some of your past lovers from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had managed to sneak you in several times, but a Slytherin? Back then, even the Ravenclaws, who were known to be wiser and fairer, held a prejudice against the house with the serpent emblem. Now, you did not see any reason why the students had any form of foolish prejudice, though, for the Slytherin towers looked...normal. Mundane, if you will. It looked like every other tower you visited, and noticing the man beside you had turned to face you, you stiffened. He was the Head of the House, after all, and you did not intend to cross him by openly disapproving of his House in front of him. Straightening yourself, you turned to meet his eyes. 

"I was a Ravenclaw, therefore this is all very new to me, Professor." This time, you spoke first. He shifted his gaze from your eyes, before nodding solemnly and turning on his heels again, desperate to walk somewhere else and get the tour over and done with already. Instead, in a bold move to perhaps grab his attention, his good side, whatever it was that spurred you to even touch the cold, stoic professor, you reached out for his arm. 

He turned, eyebrows raised in alarm, and you chuckled. Steeling yourself, you spoke, "If you don't mind, Professor, I would like to go up to the roof of the Slytherin towers, please. The sun is nearly rising, and I think it would be beautiful to watch the sunrise from that viewpoint."

His expression was unreadable. Although his eyebrows had already went down, his mouth was curved into a nasty frown and his eyes appeared to be considering your words. It was a rather odd request, for sure, but you remembered all the times you spent watching the sunsets with your Quidditch team, and for once, you would like to reminisce the past while doing one of your favourite things.

"I do not enjoy wasting time watching the sun rise, Professor (l/n), I have things to do. Lessons to plan. In fact, I--" He began to say, but with an unthinkable amount of courage surging through you, you gripped his arm tighter. 

"You don't have to watch it with me, _prof,_ " You attempted the use of a nickname in hopes of softening him. "I just want to know how to get up there. I would watch it myself, and I know the way back. I'll be out of your hair today."

His eyes narrowed, seriously considering your offer, until he gave a resolute _fine_ under his breath and continued to stride to another set of staircases. 

The view from the top of the Slytherin tower was, breathtaking to say the least. You could see the whole landscape of the school and beyond, past the forbidden forest and the giant lake, to the tracks that would lead the Hogwarts Express towards civilisation and back to Hogwarts. The scene was incredibly calming, and as you sat down on the slippery roof, trying to get a grip to ensure you would not fall, you managed to take a deep breath and inhaled the crisp, morning air. The sunrise, of course, did not care if you watched it or not. It will keep on being beautiful, even if no one bothered to look at it. However, you felt you owed the sunrise a trip every once in a while in return for all the bittersweet memories with your Quidditch teammates it had given you. Feeling the breeze caress your face, you let out a rare, soft, laugh. Being up there felt heavenly. 

Meanwhile, Snape watched you from the staircase that he had led you up on. No one had ever asked of him to lead them up to the rooftop just to view the rising sun. Especially no staff of Hogwarts, ever. Everyone seemed too busy, always planning lessons first, going through the materials before classes would began, discussing with the other professors matters related to work only. McGonagall and Dumbledore were rather close, but he knew even they would not waste each other's time asking the other to view sunrises when more important matters were presenting. Stepping forward, he stood carefully at the top of the roof, keeping a safe distance to watch you. He was only assigned to show you around Hogwarts for a day, and then he was free from ever having to communicate with any other professors unless required again, but with the tour finished, he could not help but stay a little longer. 

"If you're just going to stand there sulking all day, you're going to miss the sunrise even if it passed by blatantly in front of you, _prof._ " He heard your smooth voice exclaim, revealing he had not been as sneaky as he thought, and that he had given his location away. The nickname you had given him just a few minutes prior had also caused him to frown even deeper, if possible. _Prof,_ it was as if you could not be bothered to pronounce the full syllables of _Professor_ , he thought, as he tried to come up with a snarky remark to throw you off your guard. 

Instead, you just turned and gave him a shy smile. "It'll be over in a few minutes, come on, you have to witness this, even just once," you said as you softly tapped the seat beside you, suddenly wanting the man to see the beautiful sunrise you loved witnessing. _Maybe it'll warm his cold, dead heart,_ you thought to yourself. He refused to sit beside you, however, he did stand a little closer, and as the sun rose, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a hint of a smile on his features. 

_Even Severus Snape could not deny the beauty of a sunrise._


	4. The Calm Before The Storm

27th August 1991

"Did you enjoy the sunrise, professor?" You playfully swooped in front of him as you both walked back to the dungeons to prepare yourselves for breakfast. 

He grunted and gave you a pointed look. "I would enjoy it more if I did not have to hear your annoying chatter about the sun rising itself. Some of us prefer silence, Professor (l/n)."

You grinned cheekily at him. In the short time that you got to know the man better, you learned that longer sentences were better. Longer sentences meant he enjoyed where the conversation was going, longer sentences meant he meant little of the mean words he spat out to you. "You could just say you did, you know, save me the trouble from interpreting the rest of your melancholy words." 

He stopped for a brief moment, and swiftly turned to face you. You were still absorbed, busy patting yourself on the back for returning his snarky comment, and did not notice he had stopped walking. For the second time since your arrival last night in Hogwarts, your body bumped into his. This time, he caught you, his arms gripping your sides, forcing you to look up at him. 

_Merlin, from this angle, he can obviously see the red face I am going to sport!_ The thought raced through your mind as you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. It was of no use, however, as you could already feel your face growing warmer. He noticed this, as a faint appearance of a sneer formed its way onto his mouth, but he quickly brushed it off as it came. Reminding himself what he was about to say, he had to ensure his voice was as firm as possible. 

"You and I are not friends, Professor (l/n). The only reason I could be bothered to take time off my day to watch a natural process that most wizards have no regard for, was to watch over in case you _Ravenclaw_ had planned to pull a prank on the Slytherin house tower. Nothing more," He gave with a final sigh, before releasing you. In your shock, you could not fully process what he just said, but you knew well enough that he had just once again regarded you like a child, a mere student that was still studying in Hogwarts, a _Ravenclaw student_ trying to pull pranks on the _Slytherins_. 

Gathering yourself and suppressing the tinge of anger you felt, you retort, "As a _professor_ now, I have no interest in childish antics that would favour my house in any way. Or have you forgotten, _Snape_ , that I have graduated? I did not ask you to watch the sunrise with me, you chose to stay."

This seemed to catch him by surprise, as for a moment, his mouth opened as if to quickly retort your insult, but in the end, he chose to not speak and instead furrow his eyebrows at you. 

"Ah, Professors (l/n) and Snape! You two are early! I trust you had a chance to get to know each other through the tour Professor Snape guided you on, Professor (l/n)?" Dumbledore's booming voice suddenly appeared from the end of the hallway, and both of you instinctively turned to face him, now realising you could not retreat to your rooms to prepare yourselves before breakfast. 

"I did, Headmaster. Professor Snape is lovely," you replied with a smile towards the dark-haired man, and he sneered. Dumbledore immediately picked up on your note of sarcasm, and chuckled. 

"In that case, you two really _do_ get on well. Every other professor that I have requested Severus to give a tour of has come to me complaining about him or choosing not to speak about it altogether. You are the first one to be able to hold a proper conversation with him. Come, let us eat!" Dumbledore turned on his heel and proceeded to head to the dining hall, leaving you and Snape alone once again. 

"I would not call our conversation _proper_ ," you muttered under your breath, and to your surprise, you heard the faintest, softest, laugh beside you. 

"Agreed," he said before following Dumbledore into the dining hall. 

_That was the first time he was civil with me._

28th August 1991

In the morning that followed your first proper day, you decided to watch the sunrise again. 

It was not a spontaneous decision, in fact, it was only one you decided to come up with because it was currently four again, and you realised you could not sleep a wink, the dinner from the previous night still settling itself in your stomach. It gave you a buzz, and resigning to not sleeping for the night, you stepped into your Falcons Quidditch sweater and stepped out of your room. Not expecting anyone to be joining you this time, you told yourself you could afford to dress a little more casual as you were only going to watch the sunrise and head straight back before breakfast.

Retracing your steps through the towers Snape had hurriedly shown you yesterday, you wondered if _he_ was awake at this timing, seeing as he was the one who rudely interrupted you from your sleep the previous day. 

Reaching the top of the tower, you were prepared to settle down into the comfort of your sweater and await the rising sun, but to your surprise, a certain black-haired professor was already there, this time sitting against the slope of the roof. _He came back,_ you thought, as you silently watched his coat lift slightly like a cape whenever the wind blew in his direction, and his hair being softly caressed by the breeze. He looked at ease, with his eyes shut and his eyebrows not furrowed, simply enjoying life as it was then. He looked...handsome, almost. At the sudden realisation, you nearly slipped your footing on the roof as what you previously thought sent shockwaves throughout your body. He immediately took notice, and as if caught with a hand in the cookie jar, stood up and his expression riveted back to the disapproving, stoic nature he always had on. 

Realising no possible explanation was enough for what you just saw, Snape simply shrugged and walked past you, wanting to head back. "I suppose...it is rather...pleasant, up here. No surprise, if any house were to be the best place to witness anything, it would be Slytherin."

You cracked a grin at him having being caught, and instead of letting him pass by, you reached out for his arm once again. "Stay. The sunrise won't be for another twenty minutes, Professor. Surely you can afford to spare that time to spend it on top of the _Slytherin_ tower?" 

He hesitated. Not wanting to give in to you that easily (although he supposed it would be nice to have a companion to watch the sunrise he deemed so beautiful the previous day that he wanted to watch it again the next), he huffed as if to say _with you? Not a chance_ , but you smiled, this time, really smiled kindly, and proceeded with a _please_.

Looking into your eyes, he did not know what compelled him to sit back down and watch as you tried to settle down beside him, nearly slipping once and using his shoulder for support. He almost flinched, not used to being touched so much by someone he barely knew, but in your case, he simply looked away and muttered a _careful._

Watching the sky turn a soft pink-golden hue together, you realised that maybe, just maybe, the man beside you had changed, just a little bit.

31st August 1991

In the days that followed, both of you mutually agreed to meet at the exact same spot at the Slytherin rooftop at the break of dawn, only exchanging silent glances and few words in the minutes leading up to the actual sunrise. Snape did not enjoy talking, you knew, but the presence of his company, his robes smelling faintly like potions with parchment evident from the hours he spent doing lesson plans, were enough for you. Dare you say, he seemed like the person you would call closest to a friend in Hogwarts, even if the only conversations you both had were short and simple. Not that it was to say the other professors were unfriendly, for McGonagall had welcomed you with open arms the two times you had been to her office to inquire about certain parts of her lessons that could be merged with yours, and Flitwick still treated you like a proud father, from the days you were Ravenclaw's best Seeker and winning the House many, many points during Quidditch matches. But Professor Snape, he was different. You were never fond of him back when you were in school, he always seemed aloof, distant, with students. Only favouring the Slytherins (even then, it was not much), in his lessons, he often took away points from your houses without reasons, gave unnecessarily difficult questions for homework, and punishing students who made the slightest mistake in their potions. Luckily, you had a knack for Potions back then, narrowly missing his wrath several times when he chose students to nitpick on. But now, the man beside you felt different. He was kinder, softer, perhaps, even if you could only judge based on his facial expressions and body language. He was not as tense as in a classroom, and he seemed to relax a little in the quiet moments you both had before breakfast. Perhaps that was what drew you to him. Seeing a different side of him meant a tiny hint of trust, that he could be relaxed around you, not restricting himself to only work conversations like McGonagall and Flitwick. Because god forbid anyone else in the school had plans for anything but lessons, you concluded. Not that you were behind on your lessons as well, but with the aid of the fidgety Professor Quirrell helping you out after dinner (he was often gone in the day, going to Merlin-knows-where) for lesson plans, your load was definitely eased and you could make time for the little things in life after finishing your lesson plans, like exploring more parts of the castle or even trying your ability on new charms and potions, something you realised had gone rusty since you spent the past few years solely focused on a certain game on the field. But it was these moments with Snape that made you the happiest, and you did not know if it was because it took you back to a certain time with your teammates where you all were happy, or if it gave you new memories that you would cherish with the man beside you. 

Turning to steal a glance at him, you chuckled. Never in a million years would _Severus Snape_ be the closest thing you had to a friend in this school.

However, things were never poetic, and the peace you so enjoyed with this man would be overturned quickly the moment the new school year started and Harry Potter showed up on his first day at Hogwarts.


	5. At The Dinner Table

1st September 1991

You had heard of the legend, _The Boy Who Lived_ , in fact, while you were still attending Hogwarts as a mere third year the day the incident happened, you still could remember a boy from Gryffindor running in to your classroom hurriedly, with beads of perspiration on his pimpled face and his hair in a mess. You wondered what had got him into such a rush, and why the expression on his face was so jovial, until he exclaimed the next few words that changed history as far as you knew. 

"Voldemort's been defeated! He's gone!"

You could still remember the festivities that happened that day, the look on everyone's faces as they realised that perhaps, at last, peace was achieved. The wizarding world was safe again, and that there was a future to actually look forward to. Hogwarts had celebrated royally with a feast, and you could faintly remember celebrating even more with your Ravenclaw housemates back in the common room as well. Now, that memory seemed more familiar than ever, with you back at the very place you found out about Harry Potter.

However, you were not prepared for Snape's snappy and overall sour mood the moment school began, though. Although there had never been any verbal agreement for the both of you to meet every morning on top of the Slytherin tower, it was mutual and in the short span of time you got to know him, both of you had spent all your mornings before school started up at the roof. So it was definitely strange when you could not find the black-haired man in sight anywhere on the first morning of September. 

_Whatever, he probably had some last minute things to prepare before the school year, anyway,_ you shrugged as you settled onto the roof and waited for the golden hues you loved watching every morning to appear. You would never admit it, but you quite missed his presence around. He seemed like the only constant, the only normalcy you had since arriving at Hogwarts, so it hurt a little to have him ripped away from you so fast.

The students would only arrive right before dinner, so you had the whole day before it to have the last bit of free time before being thrown irrevocably into the teaching profession. Remembering your promise to the former captain of the Falmouth Falcons, you decided to pick up a quill and parchment and began to write to him. 

_How have you been, Kenneth? I have been settling down at Hogwarts pretty well. The staff are nice, not to worry, and headmaster Dumbledore is every bit as respectable and kind as you made him out to be, which I am deeply thankful for. I hope the week ahead, my first week teaching, will be free of any fuss and smooth-going, although now that I write it down, it seems like a pretty far-fetched dream, doesn't it? I only hope to get along with the students well, then, does that seem more realistic? Anyway, I have held up my end of our promise, and I look forward to receiving your letter soon._  
_Signed, (y/n)_

Choosing to omit your relationship with Professor Snape, you thought it would be wise to do so since you were not even sure yourself if you two could be considered friends. Would the word acquaintances count? Anyway, you did not deem it relevant enough to be mentioned to Kenneth, which was why you decided to leave the description of your colleagues as simply _nice._ Softly waking Athena up, she grumpily pecked your ear before you folded up your letter and placed it between her beak. She definitely did not enjoy being woken from her slumber, reminding you that she was every bit like her owner. With a smile, you sent her off, before resuming to your other duties until you heard the faint chugging sound of Hogwarts Express, and prepared yourself for the incoming students. 

Snape was right beside you as you left the dungeons and swiftly walked up the steps to the Great Hall, ready to welcome back the returning students and welcome the new first years. As usual, both of you complemented each other in stride, with only side glances being sneaked at each other from time to time, your walk devoid of any conversation. Taking this chance to speak to him about your morning rendezvous, you reached out and stepped in front of him, blocking his path. His eyebrows narrowed, but he chose to let you speak. 

"Professor, I just wanted to clarify, that..." You paused to catch a breath and gauge his reaction, but had none, "...With the new school year starting, I may be a little busy for our morning rendezvous, which is why-"

"Professor (l/n)," he cut you off, "You talk as if you assume you and I are friends, when in fact, you and I just happen to be in the right place at the right time, constantly. So no, I would not mind if you did not show up to our _morning rendezvous_ like you have for the past week. If you took notice, I was not there myself this morning, for I had _better_ things to do."

You had expected this reply, him pushing you away and dismissing any salvageable piece of amicable friendship you both appeared to have, however. So biting down your instant distaste for the lack of cushioning to his words, you replied instead, "Is that why you show up every morning and take your spot a little further to the right when you know the best view would be from the left side of the tower? Or were you simply saving that spot for me?"

He was taken aback, but in the usual Snape fashion, he only grunted before moving to the side and kept walking, leaving you grinning while trying to catch up with him. _Got you right where I wanted you, prof_.

Reaching the Great Hall together, you discovered that both of you were the latest to arrive, apart from Professor McGonagall, who volunteered to bring the first years in for the very first time. This also meant that the only available seats were to the right of Professor Quirrell and to the left of Professor Flitwick. Scrambling to fight for the seat beside Flitwick, you consciously increased your speed until you were staring back at Snape playfully, celebrating the mini victory that _he_ had to sit beside twitchy Quirrell, enduring his stuttering conversations throughout dinner. He noticed your smile, and turned away for a brief second to hide his own, but nothing would escape the observant eyes of a Ravenclaw, and you smiled even wider with the knowledge that you had caught the potions professor cracking a rare smile. 

Taking your seats, you were right about to ask Flitwick something about one of the charms he used to teach you, when for the first time since you arrived, Professor Quirrell turned to talk to you at dinner. "P-Professor (l/n), w-would you m-mind switching s-seats w-with me?" You had quickly gotten accustomed to his stutter, which you did not deem too weird, because it was not _his fault_ that he was nervous. You looked over at the black-haired man sitting beside him, now looking away towards the empty Slytherin tables. 

"May I ask why?"

"I-it's just...I-I want a better v-view of the i-incoming f-first years, you know! A-and besides," He turned to give what you gathered was a wink, but with both of his eyes batting viciously at you, it looked more like he was having an aneurysm. "You a-and Professor Snape will g-get a chance to b-be...together," he concluded, but by the time he did, both you and Snape had stood up, glaring back at him. 

"We are not together!" Both of you yelled. Snape looked like he was ready to hex the man, while you swore you could see red from the accusation that had just been thrown at you. 

"Professors, professors! What would the students think of their very own teachers fighting in the dining hall? Ah, here they are! Please, sit back down!" Dumbledore cut in after hearing the commotion at the teachers' table, and with a final wave of his hand, he dismissed your commotion and sat back down at his seat. In the time that he did, however, sneaky Quirrell had swooped in and sat down at your original seat, grinning back at you after you noticed. You opened your mouth to protest, but accurate to Dumbledore's claim, the grand doors of the great Hall had opened and the recurring students had started streaming in. Grumbling words that were not very nice to hear to yourself, you resigned to move over and take the seat beside the potions professor, not knowing where Quirrell had found the courage to commit an act like that. Both you and Snape made sure to keep a distance now, not wanting to stir any confusion or reaffirm what Quirrell said, that you two were... _were together,_ Merlin, you could not even fathom saying it without gagging.

"And now, let us welcome the first years!" Dumbledore announced as everyone had started to settle down. A few looks were already thrown to your side, puzzled glances at the new professors sitting on the table, but they were quickly brushed aside when Professor McGonagall burst through the doors, with the first years in tow. You remembered your first day as a first year, nervously following everyone else as you hopped off the Hogwarts Express for the first time. With the prefects leading you to Professor McGonagall, you felt your stomach lurch when asked to sit for the Sorting Hat. Remembering placing it on, you could still hear it yelling after only a few seconds, which proceeded in loud applause from the house in blue. 

Now, looking at the first years, you could definitely empathise with the nervous, timid look on their faces. Scanning through the crowd, you noticed the jet-black haired, bespectacled boy right away. _Merlin, he really does look like his father, but he has his mother's eyes,_ you thought as you instantly recognised the infamous _Harry Potter_. Craning your neck so you could get a better look at him, you suddenly felt a large hand on your shoulder, and you froze when you realised whose hand it was. Turning to look at the potions professor, you realised this was the first time he looked, really looked, shaken. His body language was stiff, and his eyes seemed fixated on the first years too. You wondered if he was looking at Harry Potter like you were, until he spoke.

"Ogling the first years, already, Professor (l/n)?" He said through gritted teeth, but now you realise his hand was slightly shifting your own body backward, so _he_ could get a better look. "You will get plenty of chances to look at them in the classroom, sit back down."

Shrugging his hand off your shoulder, you whispered angrily, "I was not ogling! I wanted to see..." You raised your hand and pointed straight at Harry. "...There, the Potter boy." 

At this, Snape seemed to stiffen more, if possible, and glared at you. _Why was he angry at me for?_ you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, but then you realised that the other person sitting beside you was almost bending over forwards, trying to see the direction in which you pointed at. _Wow, this is the first time Quirrell has shown so much enthusiasm in anything,_ you watched as he strained his neck trying to look at the boy, when he simply got covered by a red-haired, taller boy, blocking Quirrell's view. Just then, it dawned on you what Snape was doing. _He wasn't trying to see Potter for himself! He was trying to ensure you did not lead Quirrell to where he wanted, to see the Potter boy,_ feeling puzzled by this, you opened your mouth to speak, but unaware that the Sorting Hat ceremony had started, you jumped when a loud _HUFFLEPUFF!_ was announced, followed by a roar from the Hufflepuff table. 

Watching as the individuals were slowly sorted one by one, you waited anxiously for Harry Potter's sorting. _He would be a perfect fit for Slytherin actually, all things considered,_ you thought, watching as the boy's name was announced and it seemed as if all noise and chatter in the room had stopped, now all eyes were watching him. He walked up to the stool, and nervously put the hat on, and everyone anticipated his outcome with bated breath. Even Snape beside you, who usually seemed disinterested at every single thing, was looking at the scene curiously. With a final resolve, the Sorting Hat announced, _GRYFFINDOR!_ , and a round of applause and cheers came particularly loudly from his house. Snape drank the rest of what was in his cup, and sat back down, going back to his disinterested self. 

Once the students had settled, however, you realised was _your turn_ to get nervous. Dumbledore was going to introduce you and Quirrell to the school. Although you were used to larger crowds and audiences in your experience as a Quidditch player, this level of attention still gave you a little anxiety. 

"And now, before the festivities start, students, I would like to make a few announcements. There has been a change in the teaching staff recently, where two new Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers will be joining us. Please welcome, firstly, Professor Quirinus Quirrell!" A slower round of applause came as Quirrell stood up unsteadily, nervously looking around the room. Apparently, the attention given to him was almost going to make the man faint, but considering what he did to you and Snape earlier, you could not help but steal a quick snicker at his antics. Your amusement was short-lived, however, when after Dumbledore's introduction of Quirrell, all eyes turned towards you, the newcomer that had yet to be introduced. Suddenly, the room had gone quiet once again, and you felt what it was like to be in Potter's shoes right then. 

"And last but not least, Professor (y/n) (l/n)! Some of you may have known her prior to her joining us at Hogwarts, but please, for the sake of yours and hers, be kind to her. She is new, but that will not make her any less competent than any of us! Welcome, Professor (l/n)," Dumbledore smiled warmly to your direction when he finished, and you stood up from your seat. Choosing to give a small bow and a wave of your hand, you were taken aback when suddenly, the roar of applause came. Quirrell had a starkly different audience reaction, with only a few small claps, but now, with the attention you were receiving, you felt your cheeks slightly go red as you resigned yourself back to your seat. All of a sudden, a flurry of voices could be heard as soon as the students were allowed to eat.

"Did you hear? The new professor used to be a professional Quidditch player for the Falmouth Falcons!" A boy from Slytherin had chimed in rather loudly, and since you and Snape were nearer to the student tables than the other professors, you could hear all their conversations much clearer. 

"That would make her awfully young to be a professor, wouldn't it?" His friend replied.

"Well, yeah, young and beautiful she is, compared to our other professors!" A Ravenclaw at the table beside them stuck his head out and cut into their conversation, with the three of them snickering. At this, you felt your face grow warm, and you wanted badly to get over dinner proceedings and hurry back to the safety of your room. Students, always awfully crass and bold, you now remembered the conversation with Kenneth on how you did not particularly enjoy teaching children. You dared your eyes to glance at them for a moment, but to your surprise, they were already looking at you, smiling. Hurriedly focusing back on the plate in front of you, you decided they looked a lot like the older students, probably fifth or sixth years. 

"Do you want to make a bet how long she'd last with god-awful Snape around?" At this, you now knew you could take it no longer. It was enough that they were bringing the other professors down to compliment your looks, but now with a particular jab at Professor Snape, you wanted to march up to them and give them a piece of your mind. As a student, you would understand poking fun at teachers here and there, but you did not remember you or your friends ever being this brash when it came to conversations so loud even teachers could hear. Pushing back your seat, you were ready to walk over when once again, you felt the black-haired professor's hand. It seemed like he was aiming for your arm that was resting on your lap, but with the speed of your movements, his hand could not react in time and instead landed on your lap. It caught you by surprise, of course, and you tried to ignore the furious blush that if it was not present before, was definitely showing now. He, too, was now sporting a slight tint, but if he had any reactions, he did not show any as he quickly retracted his hand and began to speak. 

"Don't bother, children are children. You'll get used to it the longer you work here," he warned, and you could not believe that _Snape,_ of all people, was ignoring insults just like that. 

"They were rude, Professor, I think--" You cut in, but he did not allow you to finish. 

"I do not _need_ you to stand up for me, Professor (l/n). If you are so unsatisfied, I will have a talk with those boys tonight if it makes you happier." At this, you felt your heart jump. _Make me happier?_ you opened your mouth in shock, but the look on his eyes was definite, and you unwillingly backed down. Pushing around the food on your plate, you ate the rest of your dinner in a sour mood.

"I still think you should have at least let me give them a piece of my mind," you said as the both of you were walking back to the dungeons after dinner, ensuring no students were running around the castle past bedtime. He gave a loud _tsk_ , and turned to face you. 

"They were insulting _me_ , Professor (l/n), what's it to you to defend _my name_? If anything, it should be me that is upset."

"Exactly! Are you not upset? You cannot let them tarnish your name like that, Professor!" 

"How I determine my feelings is _up to me,_ (l/n)," he said as if his decision was final, and you were about to refute when you stopped. _He used my last name, he didn't call me Professor_. 

When you focused back on him, you noticed that you were both already at your door. He had walked you back to your quarters, even though his was the nearer one to the staircase. _This man is weird,_ you thought as you studied him. He seemed to study you as well, and you both spent about five minutes standing there, seemingly having a staring contest, until he cleared his throat. 

"Goodnight, Professor (l/n)," he muttered as he opened the door to your room. You replied a goodnight back, but even as you entered, your mind was still full of question marks on what happened at dinner and the walk back. _Why was he acting like this?_ Perhaps you would never know the true inner workings of Severus Snape's mind, and strangely, it drew you nearer to him. He was a magic of a man, and you wanted so badly to pick apart his brains one day. No man has ever left you so frustrated and confused at any one time, save for him. 

2nd September 1991

The next morning, you awoke to the flutter of Athena's wings entering your room. She was carrying Kenneth's letter in her beak, and you smiled as you politely requested her to leave it at your desk. Checking the clock, you realised it was nearly time to prepare for the first day of lessons, and dressing in your signature white robes, you decided to clear your mind a little and walk around the castle before the students woke up and headed for breakfast. It would give your mind a clearer headspace, something you knew you needed for your first day of work. 

Locking your room with a _click_ , you stepped out onto the castle floors and began strolling around. Past the dungeons, the classrooms, the dining halls, you finally found yourself at your last stop before heading for breakfast. _The Slytherin Tower_. The sun had already risen by now, so there was no point in heading up, but you did want to get to a higher floor to enjoy the morning view better. Climbing the staircase, you stopped when you noticed a figure on the roof you could instantly recognise. 

_Severus Snape had been watching the sunrise._


	6. Flying

2nd September 1991

You left before he could spot you. Talking to Snape in the morning did not seem like a very good omen, especially since it was your first day, and all you wanted for the day was to focus on the students and not mess up. Yes, you did dislike children, but you took up the job after all, and damn straight if you did not put in your best effort to everything you took up. 

Stepping into the Great Hall for breakfast, you noticed more ogling eyes around this time, studying your every move as you walked briskly to the front. One of the boys, Ronald Weasley, you had recognised from the previous day's sorting, had stared at you as if you were a supernatural being. He was sitting beside Harry Potter, and in your journey to the teacher's table, you could hear his excited chatter about you. 

"That's her! That's the professor I told you about, Harry! She used to play for the Falmouth Falcons, you know. They were pretty good, but not as good as the Chudley Cannons, of course. She used to be the Seeker, did you know that? Harry?" Ron had tried grabbing Harry's attention to talk about you, but Harry's eyes were fixated on something behind you. You felt a little sorry for the ginger, but proceeded to take your place at the table. Only when you turned did you notice what Harry had been staring at. 

Snape was right behind you, although it was no surprise that you did not notice him. His footsteps were silent, and he moved fast, like a snake trying to catch its prey. You cleared your throat, and wished him a good morning, to which he grunted and took his seat beside yours. 

Your first class of the day was with the first years, in particular the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Quirrell had made a little bit of a fuss when the schedule came up and he was not offered to teach _Gryffindor_ , which you found was rather odd. Sure, some professors preferred their own houses over the others, a prime example of that would be Snape, but Quirrell was a _Ravenclaw_ , why would he be unhappy that _you_ got to teach the Gryffindors? You laughed, remembering him unhappily ranting and clearly showing his unhappiness by marching out of the room when he found out the schedule, nearly tripping on a step in doing so. You wished you had Kenneth there with you to laugh at his antics, but instead, the closest thing you had was Snape, and he did not seem particularly invested in the idea of humour. 

As the students strolled in and took their seats, you recognised a few more of them from the Sorting Hat ceremony. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor. Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor. Megan Jones, Hufflepuff. Those were the few that came off the top of your head, but upon closer inspection on the name list, you remembered even more of them. 

"Alright, let us get this lesson started. Now, I know it is only your first day here, so some of you may be having doubts on what you are even supposed to learn, considering you only knew of the standard Muggle subjects like Mathematics, Science, and Geography, am I right?" You proceeded to head to the front of the class and smiled at them. A few nods and words of agreement were heard, and you straightened, moving to the board now. "So, I don't intend on making things difficult for you. This first lesson, let us get to know each other better first.” You wrote your name out on the board, along with your age and your hobby, which to the pleasant surprise of those who did not know you prior, was playing Quidditch. Next, grabbing a Golden Snitch replica from your pocket (which had been gifted to you kindly by Kenneth on your birthday last year), you showed it to the class. An excited chatter broke out, some even questioning how it had not flown out of your hand and started zooming around the class. 

"Relax, this, is a replica." You demonstrated by throwing it in the air and it returning right to your hands. "Now, whoever I throw this Snitch to, you have to answer the three things I have written on the board, alright? Tell me your name, how old you will be turning this year, and one thing you like to do."

If the class wasn't excited then, they definitely were now. The prospect of _catching_ a Golden Snitch without being a Seeker in a Quidditch team seemed like such an exciting opportunity, everyone wanted a chance to catch it. Smirking at how your lesson plan had gone well, you threw it out to the Hufflepuff's side. A brown-haired boy with a pointed nose and tall stature caught it, much to the dismay of the people around him. "M-my name is Justin Finch-Fletchley, Professor! I'm turning twelve this year, and...and I like helping my mother gardening back home!" He tried to sound as confident as he could, but with the mention of his mother at the end, the class could not help but erupt in laughter, a few _mama's boy_ quips were thrown around, until you raised your hand and stopped them. 

"Now, now that's enough. Nice to meet you, Justin, if you really do enjoy gardening like you say you do, then I think you would do great in Herbology, taught by Madam Sprout. I do hope that you keep up this interest, Justin. Herbology is a very important class to master." You smiled at him, and he seemed to calm down after getting red-faced from his classmates’ teasing. "Now, Justin, please, pick a friend to throw the Snitch to, and let them introduce themselves."

The boy seemed to study the crowd for a second, before throwing the ball towards the Gryffindor's side. This time, Harry Potter caught it, and he stood up, although a little unsure of himself. You smiled at him encouragingly, and he began to speak. 

"Harry Potter, Professor. I just turned eleven, and...and...I'm not sure what I like..." He quietly drifted towards the end, but you did not fault him. 

"Is the Wizarding world very new to you, Harry?" you asked, for you did not know if his guardians after James and Lily bothered to tell him about it. He shyly nodded. 

"It's alright, you'll find what you like to do here very quickly. Hogwarts has something for everyone. Although, if you do take up an interest in Quidditch, please, feel free to approach me. I'd be more than happy to help you out on any queries you have on it. Now, Harry, please throw the Snitch to the next person."

At the end of the lesson, everyone was in a way better mood than when they first stepped in, and you managed to cover most of the content on the Introduction to the Dark Arts topic, with the class listening with rapt attention in case you threw out questions and they would get another opportunity to catch the Golden Snitch. When the bell rang, surprisingly, they groaned, unhappy that the class was over. On your side, you could never have felt more relieved. _Merlin, thank the heavens they liked me, I wouldn't know how else to win them over if they had started not liking me from the first lesson._

The next few lessons with the second years proceeded as smoothly as with the first years, thankfully. You were able to get the class to listen and pay attention, and with the compliment of them even mentioning you as the _nicest_ teacher Hogwarts ever had, you felt your heart get even happier as the day went on. 

"You had a good first day I assume." Snape spoke at the dinner table, but he did not bother to look at you. 

"How did you know?"

"The children were boasting about you in my class. Professor (l/n) is so nice, Professor (l/n) let us touch a Golden Snitch, Professor (l/n) is so _pretty_ ," he replied, and for a brief second, you heart did a somersault at him mentioning you were pretty, even though you knew it did not come from his own mouth. "Apparently, you are now the hottest subject in Hogwarts, with students talking about your lessons so much that they don't even bother to listen in _my_ lesson."

"Aw, are you jealous, _prof_?" You grinned, trying to hide how absolutely ecstatic you were that your first day had gone so well, that even Snape was mentioning it to you. 

"Of being the talk of the town between children? No, unfortunately I am not. Unlike you, my classes are professional, strict, running according to schedule, as always."

"No, I meant, of them. Don't worry, Professor, I only have eyes for you," you teased, and McGonagall, upon hearing the conversation, laughed as well. Snape, on the other hand, turned to you with a look, before deciding it was time to end the conversation and go back to his food.

5th September 1991

It was nearing the end of the week, and you were excited to have your first weekend off, wanting to spend the time to unwind and perhaps write back to Kenneth. Speaking of which, the letter he wrote back to you was still on your desk, due to you not having the time to rip it open and read it through. Sure, you always had a spare few minutes here and there, but you wanted to savour the moment in reading the letter. It was your only reminder of your past life, after all, and you did not want to waste it by reading it hastily in your fleeting spaces of free time. 

After finishing your final class of the day with the third years, you checked the schedule to discover that Madam Hooch, the Flying teacher, was teaching the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins their first lesson on Flying. You remembered your lessons on Flying, recalling it to be the best time you ever had. Feeling the wind smack into your face in the air, letting the broomstick carry you away from your troubles as you zipped into the sky, felt like a surreal experience no Muggle would ever be able to enjoy. As a first year, Flying had been the lessons you looked forward to the most, and wanting to see the first years themselves experience their first otherworldly experience on a broomstick, you headed down to the field to watch from a distance. 

Madam Hooch had gathered the first years together in a large circle, and by the time you got there, she had already proceeded to give live demonstrations for the students to watch. Out of the corner of your eye, you could spot Neville Longbottom, the Gryffindor boy you got to know earlier, struggling already. Madam Hooch paid no attention to him, however, and continued assisting the other students to get on their brooms. A blonde-haired, rather small Slytherin boy already seemed like a natural as he mounted the broom, and as you looked closer, you recognised him as Draco Malfoy, heir of the famous Malfoy family. You remembered them as one of the more prominent wizards and witches who joined The Dark Lord back then, and many still had fear in their hearts from even interacting with them. Potter had no problem doing so, though, as you could see him bickering with Malfoy the next moment. _Boys will be boys_.

Suddenly, you watched as Neville came closer into view, and you realised he had completely lost control of his broom. He had been the first one to set off flying, but his hand was gripping the broom wrongly, his posture was making you wince, and you realised the boy was not going to be able to land safely with the way he was flying. He rose higher and higher, and the students, as well as Madam Hooch, could only watch in horror. You cursed, running down to the field to help out, and upon spotting you running towards them, the students cleared as you grabbed a broomstick out of Hermione's hands and began flying up to where Neville was.

"Neville, Neville! Listen to me!" You yelled into the air once you were close enough, but he hardly paid you any attention, his own face white as a sheet. "Neville! You need to grip your broom like this," You showed him how you were holding on, and he tried to focus on your hands, but he was scrambling to even stay level. "And point your broom downwards, can you do that?"

You got your answer before you knew it though, because no sooner than you finished, the boy was already spiralling down, apparently trying to change his hands' position had caused him to slip off his broomstick, and soon enough, you were racing down yourself to catch him before he would experience the nastiest fall of his life. Feeling the wind rush past your ears and your body full on adrenaline, you managed to angle your broomstick just in time to slightly tip the angle of the boy's fall, causing him to fall on his wrist instead of his head, which could have been fatal. The impact was still loud, though, and the students gasped as they rushed around to see the boy who had fallen. Madam Hooch pushed through the crowd, her face as white as his. 

"A broken wrist, you'll be alright, boy, thanks to Professor (l/n) over here," she sighed, relieved. She proceeded to warn the class of misbehaving before she came back, and took Neville to the infirmary. Neville, his face tear-stricken, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, though, before disappearing, turned to you and muttered a soft _thank you_. 

Once they disappeared into the castle, you turned to the remaining students, their stares all stuck on you. And all at once, there was an applause and a roar of cheers. 

"That was so cool, Professor!" Ron exclaimed, and in your shock, you did not know what to do but only smile awkwardly. Whatever motivated you to run towards the field and try to save Neville, you would never know, but now that you were faced with the aftermath of it with students declaring you as _their Flying hero_ , you could only stand there and wait for Madam Hooch to return. Suddenly, a blasphemous pain shot through your left knee, and you knew that _this_ was the true aftermath that you had to face. Your body was shocked by the incredibly strenuous activity you had just performed, and was protesting angrily. You flinched, and the students, picking up on your expression, went quiet once again. 

"I-I need a second, please, excuse me." You glanced around as all eyes were on you, before turning and heading to the female washroom for a while, trying to gather yourself. You were limping, you knew, but you dared not stop in case any of the students tried asking you what the hell was wrong, because one second you were saving their friend's life, and the next, you were limping away like a kicked puppy. 

Opening the door of the nearest washroom, you groaned as you sat against the door, rolling up your robes to reveal an angry bruise forming. You were not even sure what you had knocked into to cause it, but you did know it hurt so much, you swore you would never do something as foolish as that again. _I don't even like these children, for Merlin's sake! Why am I risking my life for these dunderheads?_ you thought as you sucked in air through your teeth and winced. With your wand, you casted a healing charm, but because you used it so often when you were still in recovery, it did little to alleviate your pain and it left you the only option of waiting it out before the pain subsided.

It took you longer than you thought to be able to stand properly again, and the bruise that had formed on your knee was now darkening and truthfully, ugly to look at. As soon as you regained strength, however, you pulled your robes down and composed yourself. Sighing, you realised you had to head back to the field to ensure the students were not making a fool of themselves with no teacher present. Hobbling similarly to Neville, you were just about to reach the field when you groaned in annoyance. 

_Harry Potter was currently chasing down Draco Malfoy, both on their brooms._

You really could not leave these first years to their own devices, could you? Trudging up to them, you were about to yell in your most pissed-off tone, to scare them both, until you noticed something. The two of them were _naturals_. They resembled probably fifth years with their techniques of zooming through the skies, narrowly missing each other, trying various dives and tricks. Potter, in particular, seemed to have full control of his broom, and considering that his Muggle guardians had probably not taught him any element of Quidditch at all, you were amazed at the way he could effortlessly chase Malfoy down. Malfoy appeared to throw a glass ball into the air, and in a quick motion, Potter hurriedly chased after it, steeply diving for it, with no hesitation whatsoever. Once he was about a foot off the ground, you suddenly realised that he could possibly get injured if he did not land properly, but he _caught it_. He caught the ball Malfoy threw. The skills, the grace, he displayed, were nothing like a first year's.

"HARRY POTTER!" You flinched as you heard McGonagall's voice behind you, and you knew you were in for it for not stopping the two. Ready to prepare an apology speech for her and Dumbledore, she instead stood beside you, appearing as awestruck as you were. You instantly knew she saw what you saw, and you both confirmed your suspicions with your eyes. However, she still had to act as a teacher, and mustering her best impression of being furious, she began to reprimand the boy. However, shortly after, she invited the boy to follow her, and she instructed for you to follow as well. 

"Do you think-" She began to speak, but you nodded furiously before she could finish. 

"He is exactly who you are looking for," you affirmed. Earlier before school had begun, McGonagall had gone on a rage when she found out the Gryffindor Seeker had dropped out, leaving the House with no Seeker and no chance to win the Quidditch Cup, and you felt incredibly sorry for her. According to the others, Gryffindor had not won the House Cup for the longest time, but it looked like this year would be the same. However, standing behind you then, no doubt morose and fearing for his life, was her saving grace for Gryffindor.

"Thank you, (y/n)." She smiled.

"Anytime, Professor McGonagall. I was simply there to witness the scene."

"Please, call me Minerva. We are colleagues, friends, now." You chuckled and nodded, proceeding to tell her to find the Gryffindor Quidditch captain right away, and began to separate, telling her you had to catch up on lesson plans for the following week. Harry Potter shot a glance at you, pleading for any sign on what was to happen to him, and you smiled, giving him silent encouragement, before turning away.

6th September 1991

The students were allowed to receive packages during meal times, and the teachers, although not many, received packages from time to time as well. Owls flooded the halls during dinner time, but looking over to the bespectacled boy in Gryffindor, who was recently secretly appointed as the new House's Seeker, you felt excited for him this time. His Muggle guardians had not sent him a word or letter since he arrived, and you knew he felt rather outcasted, but this time, this time would be different. You and Minerva had rushed straight to Dumbledore's office that night, convincing him to allow you both to buy the boy his first ever broomstick. Dumbledore was a little taken aback, since he never allowed first years to play, but with the puppy dog eyes you knew you mastered since you were a child begging for your own broomstick, you knew he could not say no. And so, in the night, you and Minerva sneaked away to Diagon Alley to buy the boy a broomstick. Initially, she only wanted a regular one for him, to allow him to play sufficiently well and no more. But you vehemently disagreed. Sufficiently well would not cut it for Potter. You wanted him to be the best. Spotting the Nimbus Two Thousand at the shop's window, you pointed towards it and declared you would buy it for him. The price was hefty, of course, but with Minerva and you splitting it and anticipating Gryffindor's first win for the Quidditch season, you could not help but feel it was all worth it. 

Poor Potter's owl was exhausted from carrying his package, but watching as everyone's attention was diverted towards it dropping the item in front of him and seeing his face light up at the note, it made you flash a smile. The boy looked so happy he could pass out. Malfoy, on the other hand, was steaming at the ears. He looked furious, but you paid him no mind as Potter turned towards you and Minerva, mouthing his thanks. 

"Minerva told me you bought the boy a broomstick. A Nimbus Two Thousand, at that." The voice you had not heard for a while cut in, and you faced the potions professor beside you. Strangely, for the past few days that you two had not met at the Slytherin rooftop, he had chosen to sit beside you at all mealtimes, growling whenever Quirirell sat beside you, causing the man to move over. Nobody had designated seats on the table, and you yourself tended to move around to sit next to different professors to get to know them better, but Snape had somehow resigned to have a designated seat beside you, no matter where you sat. You found it sort of endearing, but you would never admit that, never in a million years. 

"I did. The boy is extremely talented, Professor. You should have seen him, he chased Malfoy around with--"

"She's also told me that you were limping again. You lied to me. You were not fully healed," he snapped. Recalling your conversation with him a week ago, you wondered how he could even remember it when you did not yourself. 

"It's chronic, Professor. No issue. What's it to you, anyways? If anything, I should be the one concerned. And do you see _me_ concerned?" You bit back, telling him the same thing he told you when you tried to stand up for him. He stopped sipping his drink, and rolled his eyes. 

"I should not have spoken." 

"OOH--A lover's quarrel!" Quirrell had apparently been listening to you two, and for the second time since the first dinner, you and Snape could agree on something; Quirrell was starting to get on both of your nerves. However, now the students were with you in the dining hall, and you could neither lash out nor hex the man. Instead, you straightened, and gestured to Snape _I'll handle this_. 

"Professor Quirrell, how has _your_ first week at school been? Did you get a chance to get to know the students?" You smiled kindly at him. Perhaps he needed a little distraction to draw attention away from the both of you. At this, he returned to his twitchy, unsure self again.

"I-I..." He fixed his turban, "...It was o-okay! Y-you know, students a-are b-boring." He attempted to dismiss you, but Snape pressed further. 

"Really? Because the students did not seem to like you very much, Professor Quirrell. They say you are distracted and often, how should I say this, _boring_ ," Snape said with a wave of his hand, and you grinned at his antics. Quirrell furrowed his eyebrows, knowing Snape had struck a nerve. 

"W-what are y-you implying? Snape?" Quirrell had clenched his fists, and you noticed now the whole teachers' table were looking at the commotion. Thankfully, the students did not take notice. 

"I am implying, that the students seemed to like Professor (y/n) way more than they liked you. Haven't you heard? They are calling her their hero, their favourite," he continued, and you felt your face grow hot. Hearing Snape defend you like this, you felt something in your heart you could not put your finger on, but you wanted it to go away.

Quirrell and Snape were glaring at each other menacingly now, and if you did not dissolve this commotion soon, the students would start to take notice and blow it way out of proportion. Grabbing Quirrell's shoulder and placing a hand on Snape's chest, you firmly instructed both of them to sit down, threatening to force them to sit next to each other at every mealtime if you had to. At this, both of them visibly calmed down, your threat now posing more of a problem than each other's throats. 

"Tsk, boys." You could hear McGonagall snicker at the end of the table.


	7. Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

6th September 1991

Once dinner was finished and the prefects had started to usher their respective Houses back to the common rooms, Dumbledore instructed for the staff to stay behind. 

"Professors, as you all might have heard, there has been a Gringotts break-in." He sounded grim. You had heard of it yourself, but you paid no mind to it back then, more focused on planning your lessons before school started. Now, it seemed like the problem had become a threat. 

"They wer' lookin' fer the stone," chimed in Hagrid the gamekeeper. He was out and about in the castle today, when he usually was by himself in his hut, which made you wonder if it really was more serious than you thought. 

"S-stone? W-wow, what...a w-weird thing to look for!" Quirrell said, his hands now fidgeting with themselves. 

"No, not just a stone, the Philosopher's Stone. Made by Nicolas Flamel, the stone can be used to create the Elixir of Life, if you must know," Dumbledore corrected him. "I have requested Hagrid to withdraw it a few days prior, and shortly after, the break-in happened. It was clear what they were looking for. Therefore, I have decided to keep it here, with us, at Hogwarts." 

There were mixed reactions. Flitwick and McGonagall were disapproving, agreeing that keeping the stone would bring about whoever was looking for it _straight_ to Hogwarts, endangering the students. Sprout, Hooch and Sinistra, the Astronomy professor, approved of Dumbledore's idea, saying that Hogwarts was the safest place the stone could be in, all things considered. That left you and Snape, and a few others who were undecided. Snape was quiet, but you knew the gears were turning in his head. He was debating the pros and cons, the implications, of such a proposal. It was certainly _reckless_ , you knew, with all the students here that had to be accounted for should an attack happen, but at the same time, who would dare try to break in to the place where Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard you knew, had the most influence? There truly was a dilemma, and you refused to take sides. 

"Nevertheless, I have expected many of your reactions, but I still need your help in guarding it. The stone will be well-hidden, placed in a special chamber. Each of you will need to cast spells to protect it, for extra security," Dumbledore continued, and as the night proceeded, the adults of Hogwarts spent most of it planning and protecting the stone, only finishing early the next morning. This meant that you only had time for a measly one hour of sleep, and glancing at your watch, you realised that once again, it was four. You got reminded of _him_ , the man standing a few feet away from you now, talking to Sprout. His shoulders were visibly relaxed despite the gruelling night you all had just went through, and his hair looked perfectly combed and conditioned as always, melting your heart a little as you stared at him. You did miss the quiet moments you had together, but with your busy schedules and tense atmosphere now, you did not know how to bring it up to him. Averting your gaze, you decided to lay back on the sofa, waiting for Dumbledore to wrap up the meeting once and for all, since you were all done and he only had a few finishing touches to do. You began to close your eyes, wanting to wait out the remaining time in peace, when his voice woke you. 

"I still think it was foolish of you to buy Potter that wretched Nimbus Two Thousand." You felt a depression beside you, and noticed the potions professor had taken a seat. 

"The boy was good, Professor. You should have seen him. Malfoy, who we all know has spent all his life zipping through Malfoy Manor on a broomstick, still paled in comparison to Potter." You still had yet to open your eyes, hoping Snape would leave you alone and allow you to catch a few winks before Dumbledore finished. 

"You are spoiling him. Now he thinks he is too good for the rest of them, overestimating himself."

"Am not!" At the accusation, you shot up. "Potter is humble and kind, and anyone could see that for themselves. You, you just wanted to defend Malfoy, your dear Slytherin!" You jabbed a finger at his chest, but he grabbed it and roughly pushed it away. By this time, a few of the professors had started looking at you two, but your ears were burning too much to notice them. 

"Potter is not even a Ravenclaw! Why are you favouring him so much?" Snape had positioned himself so he could get a better angle to look at you, causing the both of you to be closer than ever. 

"Do I _always_ need to favour my own house, Professor? For Merlin's sake, the boy had talent. As a former Quidditch player for one of the _best_ teams in the league, I know I can recognise talent when I see it! And what is so wrong," You paused to catch a breath, wanting to deliver a devastating blow, "With me spending my own money on the boy? It's not like you are his father! You don't get to dictate the boy's life or my own! The Gryffindors needed a Seeker, Harry Potter became their Seeker. If it were any other Houses, even _Slytherin_ , I would have recommended him to the Quidditch captain and bought him that broomstick too!" You finished with a death glare, but now noticing that the both of you were so close, you could feel his breath on your lips. In your fury, you and the potions professor had gotten closer and closer to each other, and now that you both had stopped talking, you could finally take in how _close_ you were. For a brief moment, you could smell his signature scent of potions and parchment, a scent you grew to like, and you swore you caught him catching a glance at your lips as he scanned your face. Panting hard now, you waited for his comeback. 

He had none. Instead, he slowly backed away, and proceeded to stand, now looking grimly at Dumbledore. He wanted to leave the room as soon as possible, awaiting the Headmaster's instructions. The air then hung an awkward silence, the only conversation in the room had previously been dominated by the both of you, everyone else simply watched the argument unfold. Now, the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. You tore your eyes away from him, finding the ceiling suddenly very interesting. 

"My, oh my, you two looked like Harry Potter's parents! Arguing over buying their son a broom, I could see it." Flitwick broke the silence first, and both of you turned to glare at him. "But in all seriousness, the boy really had talent, Snape," Flitwick defended you, "I saw him practising with his team earlier, and he was a natural, no doubt about it. Now, can you _please_ apologise to your _wife_ so we can end this meeting and go to bed?" 

"She's not my wife!"  
"He's not my husband!"  
Both of you exclaimed in unison, horror etching onto your face at what Flitwick just said. Coming from Quirrell shipping the both of you, you could understand. But to find out the rest of the teaching staff had caught on to your constant bickering with Snape and started putting two and two together, was humiliating. You wished you could dig a hole and just die right there, knowing your ears were still hot and both you and Snape were feeling uncomfortable with being compared to a married couple.

If Dumbledore noticed anything he did not say it. After a few more (agonising) minutes, he finally wrapped up and dismissed the teachers, apologising for taking away their night. Mumbles of _it's alright_ and _we're just doing our jobs_ were heard, and you looked over to the man you just had your first proper argument with in Hogwarts, now leaning against the wall, Minerva in front of him. They were discussing something, and taking your opportunity that he had so kindly given while talking to Minerva, you slipped out of the room as fast as you could. After that heated conversation, you knew you could not bear walking back to the dungeons with him without wanting to strangle him.

13th September 1991

A week had passed since the incident in the staffroom. A week without speaking to him (which was your prerogative, you knew, you were a bitter, bitter witch), a week actively avoiding him in the hallways, a week refusing to sit next to him during meal times (you sat between Minerva and Flitwick as much as you could, bless their hearts), and a week without making the slightest bit of eye contact with him. You knew he was not one to apologise, but so were you. It was his fault the argument erupted, anyway. If he had minded his own business and not stuck his nose in yours or Potter's, the both of you could go back to the way things were, which were not necessarily the greatest, but still better than they were now. Now, whenever you wanted to retreat back to your rooms in the night, you made sure that he already had entered his, not wanting to accidentally meet him in the hallway and having to _look_ at him. Now, whenever you wanted to return to doing the activity you enjoyed the most, watching the sunrise, you made the longer trip to the Ravenclaw tower, even though it was significantly further away from your quarters. Now, whenever you thought of him, you felt a strange tug in your heart. _It's hate. It has to be. I hate, hate that man so much that my heart pulls whenever I even think of that...that face, that voice, that-_ you stopped yourself before you could go on further. You distracted yourself as much as you could from him, throwing yourself into your work, making the best lesson plans possible for the students, staying up late to watch the Gryffindor team practise Quidditch, anything, really, to take your mind off that wretched man. 

On the bright side, Kenneth had kept you updated on his life back home. The Falmouth Falcons were still looking for a new Seeker, and one of the Beaters had suffered a wrist injury, but otherwise, they were doing great. It was a relief to hear, and you looked forward to his letters a lot. Once, he replied so quick, he wrote you back within hours of Athena reaching him, which meant, Athena flew over to your table during dinner one night, and dropped his letter into your hands. It was rare for professors to get letters, so when you did, all eyes on the table were on you. Quirrell looked over, and reading the name that wrote to you, loudly exclaimed, "S-she's got a boyfriend, a b-boyfriend P-Professor (l/n)'s got!" 

You glared at him, denying his claims, and everyone quickly laughed it off as Quirrell being Quirrell. The man in black at the end of the table, however, slightly sunk even more into his seat at the mention of Kenneth's name. 

Even better, Dumbledore had granted you permission to watch the Ravenclaw team train for Quidditch, provided you did not interfere and tried to train them yourself. You agreed, ecstatic to have the opportunity to watch what you loved. And so after dinner every night, you snuck away from the teacher's table quickly and joined the team on the pitch. You felt young again, watching the students train. The Ravenclaws had a particularly good Chaser, a girl named Thalia Florentine, and you faintly saw yourself in her. Being the only girl in the Quidditch team, you related to her position. You were the only girl in the Ravenclaw team the years you attended Hogwarts, too. However, back then, many students believed Quidditch was not a sport for girls, and you faced _way_ more discrimination from the team, which you quickly dismissed when you proved yourself the best Seeker in Hogwarts in the years you were with them. Now, seeing Thalia being able to play freely and alongside the boys in a sport that clearly had no gender limitation, gave you a sense of pride. 

Taking a seat by the sidelines, the Ravenclaws spotted you and cheered. Never had a teacher shown such a keen interest in them training, and you were frankly happy to be there for them. At first, they were a little worried training with you watching, considering you used to play professionally, they were afraid that you would mock their plays and considered them inferior, however, you did no such thing, instead encouraging them and giving them a few tips and tricks when they were facing difficulties. Now, they considered you one of them, some even enthusiastically asking you to sign their brooms for good luck. 

"A professional's signature on our broomsticks, that's like, the luckiest charm I could ever think of!" One of the boys mentioned to his friend while you were signing his broom one night, and you laughed. _Children, so naive, so pure_. 

Tonight, however, the team's Seeker had fallen sick, and they had no one to replace him. Usually, the captain would call off the training, but with Quidditch season incoming, you knew yourself that they were in trouble if they missed training even for a day. So when all eyes landed on you when asked who would be willing to substitute, you hesitated. The right thing to do would be to say no, no, you would not interfere, but _they needed you_. You did not want to be unfair to the other Houses that _Ravenclaw_ received training from a teacher, a teacher that used to play professionally at that, but you also did not want them to lose miserably to the other Houses because of their sick Seeker. Contemplating your choices, you were about to finally deny them of their request, when you saw their puppy dog eyes. _Goddamn Ravenclaws, since when did we all learn how to do that?_

Grumbling, you grabbed the broom the captain offered you, warning them never to speak of the night. You were not there, and you certainly did not play a match with them. They all agreed excitedly, as the game kicked off. 

Playing with children felt different. Usually with other professionals, you were at each others necks, getting as violent as you could, with some competitors even risking fouls for doing risky manoeuvres to knock their opponents off. Fouls were debated over, with the fights that happened because of it sometime causing the team to a higher price to pay than the foul itself. Players were not afraid to hurt each other, the whole atmosphere terse and terrifying to the untrained Quidditch player. Playing with children, however, was fun. They encouraged each other, supported each other through troubles, and despite what happened on the field, at the end of the game, they were still friends. They could still rely on one another, still be able to communicate and trust each other. Adults really did have something to learn from them. At the end of the game, they were begging you to play for longer, but an ebbing pain had started on your knee again, and you did not want to risk a repeat of the other day. 

The Slytherins had booked the field after the Ravenclaws, so when you were packing up, you could already hear the chatter of the robes in green entering. Watching as the boys who made fun of Snape and the other teachers the other night enter the field, you wanted to finally reprimand them for what they had said, but remembering Snape's words, you swallowed you pride and reluctantly let them slide. It did not stop you from giving them a death stare as they passed you and _blatantly_ checked you out, though. Giving them a final look of disgust, you zipped up your belongings and began heading back to your quarters.

"You should've seen her Flint, she looked so _hot_ in her Quidditch robes."

"So are you telling me that I miss training once, and you guys managed to catch _her_ in the field? I thought I told you guys to update me the Ravenclaws' training schedule so I could see her!"

"See who, Flint?" A booming voice said from behind the two Slytherin boys, and they yelped. Their faces instantly painted in horror, they realised their conversation had been heard by none other than their head of house, Professor Snape. His silent stride and lighting-fast speed had caught students off-guard more than once, and this time, it had been no different. The Slytherin boys were heading back to their common rooms after practice, and Snape had been out to catch students past curfew, when he overheard their conversation. It was no mystery that they were talking about you, because one of the boys had been the one talking about your looks on the dinner table on the first night. He felt something in his veins, a mixture of anger and a tinge of sadness when he found out it was really you they were talking about, but quickly hid any emotion from his face when the boys started to speak. 

"U-uh, nothing, Professor. We best be getting along now, sir, b-back to our rooms!" They attempted to slide away, but Snape gripped the ends of their robes. 

"Tell me, was she practising Quidditch? With the Ravenclaws?" He looked into their eyes menacingly, and they gulped. 

Feigning innocence, the boys replied, "W-who, sir?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Flint. Professor (l/n), was she practising with the Ravenclaws or not?" He gripped their shoulders then, pressing harder. 

"We don't know, sir!" The boys nearly cried as his grip was starting to hurt, "But she did look sweaty, tired, as if...as if she just went jogging! We...we saw nothing, though sir. They were leaving as we entered. "

"That means that she had been practising. Have I taught you fools nothing on reading people? Come with me, or you are risking fifty points taken away, instead of the ten that I am taking right now." He turned, and the boys had no choice but to follow him, not wanting to lose any more points for their house.

Snape led them to his office, telling them to stay right outside as he headed into his private supply of potions. Grabbing a quick list of ingredients, he began to work. Pouring ingredients and liquids delicately into his cauldron, he kept silent as he worked. Usually he would try to keep even his thoughts silent while he worked, but tonight, they were loud, and he tried so desperately to shut them up, to no avail. The boys were still outside, he could hear from their faint chatter on what he was doing, and he gave a loud _tsk_ , asking them to shut their mouths. They kept quiet then, and he continued. 

At the end of his session, he looked proudly at the liquid inside his vial, a healing potion. He gave a rare smile as he admired his work, knowing he had made it _perfectly_. As quickly as his smile came, though, it was gone once he heard one of the boys cough outside. Slamming his office door open, he looked at them disapprovingly before shoving the vial into their hands. 

"Take this to Professor (l/n)'s quarters, right down the hall from here. You will know it when you see it. You make sure she drinks whatever is inside, or I will not hesitate to give you both detention for the rest of the month," he told them as they gulped, looking at each other nervously now. How did they get so unlucky to get caught by Snape himself, they would never know, but clutching his vial in their hands, they could only nod. 

"B-but Professor, you live just down the hall from her, w-wouldn't it be easier for _you_ to pass it to her?" One of the boys daringly asked, and Snape gave him the meanest look he had ever given anyone in his life, and the boy quivered, moving backwards in case the man tried to hurt him. He took another five more points from his own house, refused to answer the boy's question, and instead, shut the door in their faces. 

Truthfully, he knew the answer, but he was so, so afraid of admitting it.


	8. You Are My Person

13th September 1991

"You were talking about her first, you do it," the older Slytherin boy tried to push his friend further, but his hand was swatted away. 

"No way, _you_ were speaking so loud Snape could hear us, you got us in trouble, you do it!" Retorted the other. Soon enough, they were at the front of your door. Still arguing over who had to knock on your door first and deliver Snape's potion to you, they jumped when they heard the wind howl. The dungeons were one of the last places students wanted to be in, so when even the slightest noise or sound could be heard, naturally, they would do anything to get out of there as fast as they could. Resolving to taking turns to speak, they hurriedly knocked on your door, hoping you would answer and leave them to return to their common rooms as fast as they could. 

There was no answer. Knocking once, twice, they knew something was amiss when you remained silent. 

"Forget it, she's probably not inside. Practising with those Ravenclaws again maybe, giving them an edge for the Quidditch Cup! Man, I wished Snape could play, everyone would just forfeit out of fear of him!" One of them snickered, but the other still groaned. 

"Did you not hear what Snape said? We have to make sure she drank all of it, or he'll give us detention for the rest of the month! We can't have detention, stupid Ravenclaw's going to beat us miserable if we did!"

"Who cares? It's not like he's going to know!"

"He has his ways!"

Just then, they could hear the shifting of furniture inside, and they locked eyes. _You were inside!_

"Professor (l/n), u-uh, Professor Snape has requested us to bring something to you. Could you open the door for us? I-it's a little scary out here." One of them proceeded to say, but received a jab from his friend at the mention of them being scared in the dungeons. 

There was a slight rustling sound inside, and the boys wondered if you even heard anything they said before you spoke. "Y-yes, thank you. Please just--" you paused, catching a breath,"--just leave it outside, please. I'll take it myself and the both of you can get on going."

"That's the thing, Professor. Professor Snape's asked us to ensure you consumed whatever's inside this vial, or...or we would be given detention! Please, Professor, we don't want detention," they pleaded. You groaned louder. _Out of all the times Snape's proven himself to be irritating and commandeering, now was the worst time to do so_. You were currently lying on your bathroom floor, on the verge of passing out when the two Slytherin boys whose voice you could recognise by now _just so happened_ to knock. _Merlin, they won't even let me die in peace,_ you thought as you experienced another surge of what was possibly the worst pain in your life. Your entire left leg was stiff as a plank, and your knee had swollen exponentially. The pain had not even been bad when you were returning to your quarters, but as you proceeded to wash up and got ready to retire for the night, it suddenly exploded and you felt like your leg had been pinned down by a giant troll, who was currently twisting and bending it like a toy. Not even able to crawl to your bed to grab your wand and cast a charm, you really had resigned to sleeping on the floor for the night until perhaps, one of your classes noticed you were missing the next morning and sent Minerva, Flitwick, anyone, to your rescue. And your plan was going well until the Slytherin boys showed up. 

"Just leave it outside, boys. I will tell Professor Snape what he needs to know. Now, go back to your rooms before I take away ten points from Slytherin," you said, not wanting them to enter the room and see you in the state you were in. There was a soft _clunk_ of them placing the vial outside, before their rushed footsteps could be heard scattering away. Sighing, you leaned your head back against the wall and tried to breathe through the pain. 

Snape was pacing around the room. _That reckless, irresponsible woman, she's hurt herself twice in the span of coming here, and now for the sake of helping those wretched Ravenclaws, she's risking hurting herself again. Has she no sense of awareness on the lengths she is going for these students?_ He was aware of your accident when it was reported on the Daily Prophet, but not one to care about sports, he merely skimmed through the article and shoved it aside at first. However, on the day you arrived, he had noticed your limp straightaway, even as he spoke to you for the very first time in the staffroom. His suspicions were confirmed when he was walking you back to the dungeons, and that night, he spent hours digging up the copy of the newspaper which reported on your injury in detail, before poring over it until the wee hours of the morning. Strangely, he felt sorry for you. _Having her career pulled out from under her feet just like that, and still being able to bounce back as quickly, that woman has remarkable strength._

He did not notice it at first, but he had started looking out for you. He thought of it as a kindness, a courtesy, a repayment, whatever, to your kindness and patience when you dealt with him. Kindly inviting him to watch the sunrise with you, refusing his polite declining (he had secretly hoped you would see through his lies, and you did), and even offering him the courtesy of only speaking to him when he wanted to, was something he had not experienced in a while. _A friend,_ he wanted to say you were, but with the way his mood had soured when he heard of Harry Potter's name on the first day of school, and the way he had been treating you as an outlet for his frustration and anger, he was not so sure that you wanted to be his _friend_ now. He knew he was in the wrong, it was neither yours nor the child's fault that his name brought up past wounds, but he was not the best at handling trauma. So instead, you had been caught right in his tornado of self-destruction. Truthfully, he liked spending time with you. He did not find the sunrise you found so beautiful much to his liking, but your company he did like. Soon enough, he had started coming back for the sole reason of spending time with you, the sunrise only part of his excuse. He realised you were different, you treated him more than a withdrawn colleague, an unreasonably strict teacher, a traitor who had only come back after his Dark Lord had gone, no, you treated him like a _wizard_. You grew to know of his perks rather quickly, that when he gave you snarky remarks or pushed you away, he really only wanted to get closer to you, to tell you he enjoyed your company, but he did not know how to express it. That when he was withdrawn you knew he wanted a little bit of space, before accompanying him as the dark thoughts started to slowly fade from his mind. You even knew when a smile, a small crack on his stoic facade was going to appear, and he realised that nobody had ever gotten to know him like that. It was amazing what only a short period of time between getting to know you had he realised his overall mood had drastically improved. Secretly (or not), he began waiting for you on top of the Slytherin tower everyday, hoping you would return to him and things would go back to normal. Unfortunately, you had stopped showing up after your first argument with him. An argument in which he deeply regretted. Through it all, he realised, he cared about you. 

So when he heard the scurrying footsteps of the Slytherin boys outside of his office, he stepped out and stopped them from going any further. 

"Have you done what I told you to do?" He questioned, and the boys looked at each other uneasily. Their hands in their robes, it was obvious that they were not looking forward to having being confronted by him the second time. 

"S-sort of?" One of them gave a hopeful look, but Snape shot it down. 

"What do you mean, sort of? There is no _sort of_ in this matter, boy, it is a yes or no question," he pressed. 

"Well, yes, but also no." It was cold in the dungeons, but the boy had begun to sweat. "S-she, she requested us to leave the potion outside. We tried to talk her into opening the door, Professor, we really did! But she threatened to take away points from us if we did not leave. I-I think she's just tired, sir, perhaps, we could try again tomorrow?" 

Snape raised his eyebrows, a frown already starting to form on his lips. The boys quivered, but he stayed put. You were always warm, friendly, to the students, so it was puzzling that you had refused to open the door to them, especially with Snape's name being mentioned. _Merlin, was it because of him? Because you heard his name, and because you were still mad at him, you refused to have anything to do with him?_ he thought, before shrugging it away. No, you were not as petty as that. You could not be. You were the last person he would think of that would involve students in your personal troubles. 

"No, you shall not try again tomorrow. Return to your rooms at once, and don't let me catch you talking about Professor (l/n), or any other Professor, for that manner, in such a derogatory way again. Five points from Slytherin." He stormed off before he could hear them groan at his punishment. He had to go to you. He did not want to admit it to himself, but he was worried. He needed to reach you as fast as possible, to ensure you were alright, that you simply were in no mood for the disgusting boys to be entertained, or that you were simply too lazy to get out of your bed again. He hoped any of these reasons were true, in comparison to what was now clouding his mind. He travelled down the hall as fast as he could without making a sound. 

Meanwhile, you really felt like you were on the verge of death this time. Having faced hundreds of injuries before this one, you could say you had a pretty high pain threshold, but now, with your leg in the state as it is and your forehead glistening with cold sweat, you _knew_ this was the worst pain you had ever been in. You had no one else to blame but yourself, unfortunately. You could have easily troubled the boys to call for help, send Minerva or Flitwick or Dumbledore, or if you really had abolished all your pride, _Snape_ , to help you, but you refused. You did not want to cause trouble for any of them. Right now, you wished you did, though. You could not move a muscle without it sending extra jolts of pain throughout your whole body, and you were sure that this time, the pain would not subside by the morning without any healing charm or potion. So you had to play the waiting game. Your eyelids were miraculously shutting, the pain knocking you in and out of consciousness, and you were thankful. The prospect of sleep was getting you through, and you so desperately looked forward to skipping the extra hours of misery until you could receive help. Breathing slowly so as not to move your body, you began to shut your eyes when your door slammed open. 

Cursing loudly now that the sound had caused your body to react in a jolt, you felt the pain multiply by a million times as you keeled over, no longer able to hold yourself upright. From where you lay, you could see the outline of black robes, and your mind made the instant connection. After all, who else was so dark and gloomy that they would wear black robes willingly? 

"Intruder," you whispered, hoping to make him laugh, but as you looked up, he had no traces of humour on his face. 

"Damn, not even a sneer? I-I tried my best with--" you wheezed,"--that one, Professor." 

Still nothing. You huffed, hoping he came in to heckle you, tell you _I told you so, idiot_ , before shutting the door and leaving you be. You knew he was never one to care, so you were prepared for whatever insult he was going to throw at you before he returned back to his room for the night, satisfied that _he_ got the last laugh after all, seeing you on the floor of your bathroom, hair a mess, looking like an injured puppy who could not take care of itself. _He_ had won whatever mini 'who was going to have to come to the other first' battle you both were silently fighting.

Instead, he stepped forward, an unreadable expression on his face. You expected him to come nearer to your face, to snort and laugh at your misfortune so you could _really_ feel the defeat of your battle, to tell you to _beg_ for his help in sitting up, anything that was an appropriate reaction from the potions professor, really. You did not expect, however, for his arms to reach out, to slide one underneath the back of your thighs, the other behind your neck, and _carry_ you. 

"What the hell are you doing? Put me down!" You panicked, and if it were not for the immense pain you were under, you would have fought back, but instead, all you could do was watch with uncertainty in your eyes on what he was about to do to you. He was carrying you bridal style now, still moving within your room, thankfully. He chose not to reply, his face now etched in anger, and... _was that worry?_

He set you down on your bed, before pulling an armchair from the front of your fireplace and sitting beside you. You sighed, grateful for the change in position. Reaching for your wand, you were stopped with his hand pulling your arm away from the bedside table you had placed it on. 

"That pathetic healing charm does absolutely nothing, you do know that, right?" It was the first time he spoke since entering your room, and you were so grateful he had not gone on full-mute, leaving you to your own devices. 

"Not like you have anything else, Professor. It will have to do." You tried moving his hand so you could reach for your wand again, but in doing so, you shifted your position on the bed. This time, the flare of pain that spread through you was enough to make you yelp in agony. He instantly stood up, as if your yelp had triggered his fight-or-flight response. His face now seemed angrier than before, and you pouted. _What is he doing now?_ you watched as he walked to your door, picking up the very item the boys had left behind. It was a vial filled with an ominous green liquid, and you wondered if he had come to poison you. Not surprising, considering how badly you had embarrassed and treated him the past week. If you were to die, let it be from the hands of the man you last fought with. You chuckled even hearing yourself saying it in your head. 

Sighing, he slid his hand under your lower back again, lifting you to a sitting position. It proved too much for you, though, because with a wince and sigh in pain, he resorted to sitting right beside you on the bed, letting his body be the support for yours. Leaning on him heavily, you winced trying to hold your hand up long enough to take the vial from his hands to drink it. Giving up and getting angry at yourself, you realised you now had to _depend_ on him to hold you upright, feed you whatever potion he had concocted, and ensure you did not die from whatever it was that was causing your own body to fail on you. _Is this what I have been reduced to? A mere mess of a body? After years sculpting myself into the perfect figure for a Quidditch player, I now have to rely on my old potions professor to hold me up and help feed me?_ At the thought, you turned away from him, your pride not allowing him to feed you. No, you refused to be treated like a baby by the man. 

"Don't be foolish, (l/n), you refusing my help is not going to help you heal any faster. Trust me, this is twice as painful for me as it is for you." He forced you to look at him, his hand now holding your jaw tenderly. He was lying, he knew. _Of course it was not painful, it was anything but._ His heart was pounding when he entered the room, it pounded faster seeing you lie on the floor in a writhing mess, it pounded even faster when he was carrying you to your bed (he hoped, hoped dearly, you could not hear how fast his heart was beating), and it pounded impossibly faster when you draped your body over his, both your bodies almost melting into one. But seeing you in pain, seeing you blame yourself for an injury he knew was never your intention, an injury that caused you to have to depend on _him_ , was painful. And so he hoped, again, that you would just accept his help and drink his potion, so the both of you would never have to experience the pain you were feeling right then again. 

Your eyes stared into his, and for a brief moment, he thought you were leaning in. It was all in his head, of course, because you were instead moving forward to readjust your position, ready to receive his help in drinking the potion. He sat stunned, before carefully opening the vial and tipping it gently to your lips. Whatever had overwhelmed him to come save you, to pick you up off the floor of your bathroom, to help you get through your pain, he did not know, but he did know one thing. _You were his person,_ and he needed you to be well if you were going to continue being his person. Watching carefully as you slowly sipped the contents of his vial, it occured to him to explain to you what it was.

"I am sure you have heard of the Wiggenweld potion, known as a beginner potion for curing injuries. This, however, was something I had made in my own time, discovering...it as more effective and stronger than the Wiggenweld. The base ingredients are still the same, but the careful methodology that I--" You cut him off before he could finish explaining. 

"Professor, I have finished the whole thing. If you want to get along with how it is poison and I would be dying in the next few seconds, you better hurry, because I--" you laid your head on his shoulder, "--am," your hand slipping down and landing right on top of his on the bed,"--getting sleepy. If it is a healing potion, then say no more," you said as you felt your eyelids begin to droop. The pain was significantly subsiding, the potion had started its magic right away, you noticed. However, you were getting tired, finally free from the respite of pain that had been tormenting you. Right then, the potions professor felt like nothing more than a grumpy, scowling teddy bear that smelled of parchments and soft cologne beside you, and you smiled as you rested on his body. 

Snape, on the other hand, was panicking. The smell of your hair, your robes, your perfume, it was overwhelming him. Deprived of skin-to-skin contact for so long, it was a very unfamiliar feeling, having you lying on him, drifting off to sleep. What was the Muggle saying, butterflies in his stomach? Yeah, he was definitely feeling it then, except his butterflies were more queasy and monster-like, his heart swelling just being near you. After not speaking for a week, the first interaction you both had resulted in you being draped over him, something Snape definitely did not foresee. Usually a stern, quick-witted and fearless man, right then, he felt anything but. Seeing you hurt, he suddenly felt fear resurge, the same fear that he felt witnessing the love of his life killed back then. Seeing you relying on him like this, he suddenly could not find the right words to say to you, and he became nervous, unsure of himself. He realised, that you were _changing_ him.

And change had never felt as terrifying as it did then.


	9. Professor Quirrell

14th September 1991

When you came to, the first thing you saw was the dark silhouette of the man that took care of you the previous night. He was asleep on an armchair that he had dragged from the front of your fireplace, sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable position beside your bed. _He took care of me, oh Merlin, he took care of me, and he stayed._ You were hit with a wall of emotions then. So many of them rushed through you, you had a difficult time placing what you felt. He cared, he cared enough to break the silence between the both of you and came to your rescue last night. Remembering the effects of his potion kicking in, you laying your head on his shoulder, falling asleep in his arms, you felt your face flush. _Merlin, how could I have embarrassed myself like that?_ You were not even sure if the both of you were friends, but last night, you definitely gave him the idea that you were more than that, and you were mortified. Tearing your gaze from him, you saw that your knee had been bandaged and the swelling had stopped. _Great, even more reason for you to feel like you owed him something._ You were very grateful for the way he cared for you, wondering why he even bothered to do so when you had been treating him like nothing more than a Hogwarts ghost for the past week. 

_I really am a horrible person._

Trying to sit up, you sighed in relief when there was no protest from your body. Standing now, you still felt a slight tug from your leg, but you could walk fine. Snape's potion really did wonders, and now looking at him, you wondered if you should even wake him. He looked so serene. His features were much softer in sleep, the lines that were usually prevalent, creasing the top of his brows, was replaced by a youthful radiance that made your heart tug. He snored softly, and you laughed at how cute it was. The man that had a perpetual frown plastered onto his face, the man that sent fear into the hearts of many students, the very man that people saw in their boggarts, was now asleep on your armchair, snoring like a child. 

"I can feel you staring at me, you know." You jumped when he suddenly spoke, his morning voice groggy and raspier. _Merlin, it was doing wonders to you._

Trying to evade his eyes as they slowly opened, you came up with the lamest excuse possible. "I--I wasn't staring."

He chose not to point it out this time, instead shifting his position and cracking his body from the uncomfortable shape they were in the whole night. 

"'You stayed." You watched as he yawned, and his eyes softened when he heard. Not knowing what to say to you, not wanting to _admit_ that he stayed up for most of the night to ensure you were alright, that you were not still hurting, he simply grunted. Flashbacks of the previous night, him watching as you slept, admiring your beautiful features, your peacefulness when you slept, he felt his heart skip a beat. The students had mentioned countless times how _pretty, beautiful, and charming_ you were, but Snape finally noticed it for himself last night. You were _ethereal_. He had first been drawn to your personality, but now that your looks were involved, he knew he was screwed. 

"If you ever want to repay me for the permanent damage your armchair has caused to my spine, you would take the rest of the week off," he finally said, dramatically rubbing his back for good measure. Grinning, you realised he was back to his old self.

"Or...I could just crack it back to how it was. I would think I have some experience in that department." You moved forward, threatening to get your hands on him, when he softly grabbed your wrists, suddenly fixing his 'damaged' posture. He really was back to his old self. Looking up at him, you realised now was your chance to mend things with him if you ever wanted your old relationship back. He was in a better mood, and you needed the opportunity. Outstretching your hand, you offered it to him. 

"Deal. Truce on whatever that stupid argument over Potter's broom was?" You considered before saying your next words. "I missed you."

"Truce." He shook your hand, the faintest smile gracing his features. _I missed you too._

15th September 1991

"Professor (l/n) will be out sick for the rest of the week. In her place, _I_ will be teaching you." Severus stormed into the room you usually taught the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years in, shocking the class. Ron was just mentioning to Harry how bad their week had been, with your classes the only thing they had been looking forward to. As if he jinxed himself, he was now staring at the teacher the students could collectively agree they despised the most, a polar opposite to the one they usually adored. The class was silent, but Snape knew they were all groaning internally. Dismissing their worried and disappointed looks, he instructed the class to take out their textbooks, while taking the time to study your classroom. _First years, always falling for the nicest ones._

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was dark, gloomy and _ancient_ , with the skeleton that was ever prominent at the end of the classroom, the big chandelier threatening to fall any second, and the tables old and worn. Correction, that was the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom before you came to Hogwarts. The scene that greeted Snape then felt like a full transition from what he knew of it before. You had somehow made the place _homely_ , with candles lighting up the room softly, posters of the content taught plastered neatly on the walls to ensure students could refer to them anytime, and the tables scrubbed clean and looking brand new. Snape knew you had really put thought and effort into making the students' learning environment better. He felt a slight pang of shame when he compared it to his own classroom, a stark contrast to yours. Should he have put in more effort like you did? Perhaps he could take a page or two out of your book when it came to teaching. He scanned his eyes around the students too, recognising a few of them from his Potions class. And near the back, sat the unmistakable celebrity of Hogwarts. 

_There he was, Potter._ He was sitting beside his friends, Ron and Hermione, a combination he would never have allowed in Potions class. Snape gave the boy a disapproving look when they made eye contact, before moving forward to the front of the board. He was about to pick up the chalk and commence class, when the door burst open. 

Quirrell looked like he had just run a marathon. He was panting, wheezing, nearly passing out when he looked over to Snape, then to the class. 

"Professor Quirrell, what--" Snape was raising an eyebrow, not pleased that he had been interrupted,"--Are you doing in my class?"

"Actually, i-it's Professor (l/n)'s class. However, as t-the...other Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, _I_ w-will now be t-taking over her class...in her absence," Quirrell squeezed out his words, to which Snape gave a weird look to. _Since when was this man ever interested in the students? All he appeared to do was harass the celebrity Harry Potter in school, and disappear during his own classes,_ The professor thought, doubting Quirrell. 

"That won't be necessary, since I am already here, and Professor (l/n) _appointed me_ to teach in her absence."

"O-oh but I insist, Professor S-Snape! Now, i-if you could j-just m-move along please, I-I can take it from h-here." Quirrell began to enter, but Snape did not relent. They were causing quite a scene in the classroom now, the students watching the scene unfold. Ron had nudged Hermione, who was buried in her books when they started, but now Hermione was the one invested in their conversation, more so than both Ron and Harry. The entire class was absorbed, in fact. Rarely did they see the professors so blatantly be head to head with each other, but they were witnessing such an incident the. Quirrell had started to push Snape's things away, and the potions professor did not look happy at all. Snape seemed to study him for a moment, as if weighing out his options, before standing firm. 

"In that case, _you_ can teach, since the Ravenclaws and Slytherins have _always_ said you were the better teacher, anyway." A few snickers from the class were heard, Snape's voice dripping with sarcasm."But since I have the time, I shall observe, help any students if necessary. I want to see for myself how good you are compared to _Professor (l/n)_ ," he said with a final shrug. Quirrell's face had turned red by then, but he dared not refute. All eyes were on them, and Quirrell knew he was at ends. Instead, picking up the chalk Snape had put down, he began to shakily write on the board, his whole body devoid of confidence. 

"No surprise, Quirrell was absolute garbage. The man could not teach if his life depended on it," Snape said, stabbing another piece of food off your plate. It was later in the night, and because you had spent the whole day cooped up in your quarters writing letters to Kenneth and tidying your room, two things you had been putting off, you did not even notice when it was time for dinner, skipping the occasion altogether. Luckily, Snape knew it would be typical of you to do so, and brought back a plate for you. Right now, though, it looked like _he_ was the one that had skipped dinner, finishing off more than half of your plate. You did not mind, grateful for even his presence to accompany you. He had had a rough day, and if food made him feel better, you would be happy to feed him whatever he wished to eat. Speaking of his day, he was just telling you about it when it came to the part of being your substitute, and how Quirrell had ripped the only job you gave him right out of his hands. 

You grinned at him, watching him from across the room on your bed as he sat on your desk to eat. "He can't be that bad, how would he have gotten hired if he was?" You replied, and Snape rolled his eyes. His eyes travelled to the side of your desk, noticing the stack of letters that you and Kenneth had been exchanging, before tearing his eyes away. You had only just reconciled, and he did not want to ruin things by pushing you to tell him too much about your personal life. You would tell him in your own time when you were ready. He reverted back to the conversation.

"The man took a sabbatical. He came back different, a shell of who he was, and Dumbledore probably took pity on him. It doesn't excuse the fact that even Granger, that star student of yours, was nearly falling asleep in his class."

Now _that_ got your attention. Hermione Granger had always been the alert, attentive student, not particularly limited to your class, but to every class that she was in. So hearing of _her_ nearly falling asleep, was saying a lot for Quirrell's teaching. "Really? Granger? That child is the sole reason Gryffindor's even got a chance of winning this year, always winning points for answering questions right."

"I know. But with Quirrell--" Snape made a sound like he was disgusted, and you laughed,"--That man is suspicious. "

"Suspiciously bad? Yeah, if even Hermione Granger is bored of him." You turned to face Snape then, but his face was stoic. He was thinking, something you started to point out whenever you saw that particular face of his. His little quirks were hard to notice, but they were there, and being the observant Ravenclaw you were, you found out about them eventually. Frankly, you thought it was sort of cute he had them, congratulating yourself whenever you found a new quirk of his that only you knew of. 

"No, I'm being serious. He is _suspicious_ ," Snape emphasised, and by the tone of his voice, you knew he was being not joking. Sitting up, you waited for him to say more. "The first day Potter arrived, I noticed he was looking desperately for the boy, ogling him more than you were." You sneered when he mentioned it. 

He continued. "Remember the fit he threw when he found out _you_ were to teach Gryffindor and Hufflepuff? He _wanted_ to be the boy's teacher. And today--" Snape shot up, as if something had dawned on him. In your mind, the things were still not linking, so you gave him a puzzled look. A flurry of emotions flashed past his face as his realisation set in, and you gave him a few moments to collect himself before he would tell you what caused him to react the way he did. His eyebrows furrowed and his posture straightened. You knew he was at the verge of something. 

"You have to protect Harry Potter from Quirinus Quirrell," he finally said.


	10. The Letter

20th September 1991

It had been five days since Snape revealed his realisation to you. Five days of watching Quirrell's suspicious behaviour develop, five days since you both agreed to mutually look out for Potter in case Quirrell got too close. You would never understand why Snape was so concerned with the boy himself, giving him a particularly hard time in his own classes but still asking you to watch over him, but you figured it was just him. _Snape being Snape_. Perhaps he had a heart, or he felt sorry for the boy, nothing else. You could never quite figure out the man yourself. 

The both of you now had a spoken agreement to meet on top of the Slytherin tower every morning before sunrise, like before, to discuss on Quirrell. It was fascinating, what you dismissed as Quirrell being Quirrell, when Snape pointed out how weird his mannerisms were. Now, you spent almost every second of every conversation with the black-haired man talking about the twitchy professor. At dinner, both of you voluntarily sat on Quirrell's right and left sides, diverting the conversation away whenever it came to inquiring about Harry Potter, always leading him to talking about something else. It worked, for Quirrell was rather easy to crack, but you always wondered if he had something else underneath the surface that you were missing right in front of you. Deciding to pay even more attention to him, Snape agreed to be the one keeping an eye on Quirrell, while you resigned your full attention to the Gryffindor.

"H-Harry Potter! May I-I speak...speak to you?" Quirrell had waited outside of your class one day, his hands busily fixing his turban, his posture uneasy. The boy was just leaving, Ron and Hermione in tow, when he was blocked by the professor himself. You paused from clearing the board with your wand, straining to hear his next words. When there were none, you turned to face the group, your arms now crossed. Harry was confused, since it he did not remember doing anything wrong to Quirrell to be wanted by the man, neither was he in any of the man's classes, which excused the academic matter part. So he just stood there, waiting for Quirrell to speak. The professor in the turban's face lit, realising how easy it was for the boy to comply, and was about to drag him away when you stepped in. 

"Ah, yes, Professor Quirrell! Your third years will be here any second! I've just finished clearing the class, you can come in now!" Quirrell jumped when he heard you, not expecting you to still be inside.

"N-no, I—” He was taken aback.

"It's alright, really. Harry, would you follow me please? I have something for you, it's for Quidditch." You turned to the boy, and his face instantly glowed at the mention of his favourite sport. "Ron, Hermione, you can come along too, come on. Let's hurry before you have to go for your next class."

Quirrell was left behind, the children hurriedly following you now. Clenching his fist, he cursed at you for getting in his way again. You did not know if he had caught on to you and Snape, but you did know that he was getting more and more frustrated by the second. Leading the trio away, you brought them to your office, before handing Harry a book. _Quidditch Through The Ages_ , you first got a hold of it in your second year of playing for Ravenclaw, and now, you were passing it on to Harry, hoping he made as good use of the book as you did. The bespectacled boy thanked you profusely for it, excited at the opportunity to learn more about Quidditch, and you smiled in return. He really had potential and passion, a deadly combination for his opponents if he continued to improve the way he did in Quidditch. If you could mentor the boy, you swore you would have already been teaching him your secret moves and tricks by now to prepare him for the upcoming match against Slytherin, but alas, you could only help so much. Ushering them to their next class, you left before Quirrell could catch you in the hallways again. 

4th October 1991

By the time October rolled around, you and Snape were practically joined at the hip. Best friends would be the word you called your relationship, but the other professors seemed to disagree.

"Severus has never been as comfortable with someone as he is with you, you know, (y/n)," Minerva said to you one day when the both of you were having tea in her office. 

"I have never seen Snape talk so much at the dinner table to anyone else but you, even after years of working with him," Flitwick casually mentioned when you stopped by his office to borrow some books of his. 

Even Dumbledore was into it. "You and Professor Snape are awfully close, aren't you, Professor (l/n)?" 

It got to the point where if the professors were looking for either one of you, all they had to do was ask the other, to find out where the person they were looking for was. You had been stopped countless times by Hagrid himself when he was dropping by to deliver ingredients to Snape's private supply of potions, requesting for you to unlock his door. _That was the other thing,_ you had only recently found out you were the only other person (aside from Dumbledore) who had the keys to Snape's office, classroom and quarters. _For convenience, considering how often the both of you were at each others' rooms,_ he said one day, while you were draped on his armchair while he marked essays on his office desk. You shrugged, thinking nothing of it, before returning to your book. He paused to see if you had a reaction, and seeing you had none, he spent the time looking you over. Laying his eyes from your nose, to your lips, to scanning the rest of your body, he realised he was entranced. Watching as you effortlessly shifted your position on the chair, he felt something in him stir when gazing down your body. 

"Have you had your fill of ogling me, Professor?" You teased, and he knew he was caught. Your voice carried no hint of malice or uneasiness, of course, reassuring yourself he was not checking you out. _He could not be, why would he even have the slightest interest in someone like me?_

"You humour yourself. I was simply staring at the leech on your shoulder. You really should check if you had any...ingredients left on your body before leaving my supply room, you know."

At that, you yelped and jumped. Roughly swiping through your own shoulder to get the leech off, you cursed loudly when you could not find it. Rushing to the front of his mirror, you glared at your reflection until it hit you. 

"Ha ha, Professor. Very funny," You rolled your eyes at his snicker, before settling back to your seat. "Now not only have you made me lost my place in the book, I have to start looking through my appearance every few minutes to ensure what you said really was not true. I hate you."

"I'm sure you do."

7th October 1991

You were currently sat on the sidelines of the Quidditch field, writing your third letter to Kenneth in a week. Initially, you had promised to write each other letters once a week, but it had been three weeks since you received a single letter from him. At first, you attributed it to him probably being busier than ever training, so he skipped a week in writing to you. However, as one week turned into two, and two turned to three, you were sure that your worry was justified. Scrunching your eyebrows trying to sign off on the letter, you sealed it and motioned for Athena to take it from you. The poor owl was so tired of you, but you were more concerned about Kenneth's letters' mystery disappearance to deal with her negativity then. Pulling out a piece of ham that you had saved for her from dinner as an incentive for her to send Kenneth the letter, she gratefully pecked it from your hands before flying off. Knowing the risks and side effects of training as hard as Kenneth would be training around this time, especially so close to Quidditch season, did not help things. You could only hope he was alright, that he had not landed himself in St. Mungo's like you did, wrapped up like a mummy with all sorts of bandages preventing him to write you back. Watching as Athena flew higher and higher, you silently prayed that the recipient to your letters was okay. 

"Professor (l/n)! Thalia's not listening to me! Could you whack her with your broomstick to get her head right?" The captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team's voice interrupted your thoughts, and you reverted your attention to them. It was past dinner time, and as per last time, you were watching them practise for the upcoming Quidditch Cup. Snape often checked in on you doing so, though, ensuring you were not busy getting yourself killed by practising with them. It really was nice to have a sense of normalcy then, with you finally being able to settle down at Hogwarts, befriend (almost) all of your colleagues, and generally enjoying your time at the place. Smiling, you stood up and walked over to the team. 

"Not true, Professor! He was just being stupid! It's obvious that we have to dodge the Beaters _before_ even trying to score. He's telling us not to do it!" Thalia defended, clearly not standing down to the captain. They both looked like they were going to strangle each other, the look on their eyes murderous. 

"Now, now. I'm not supposed to get involved, so I am not going to tell you who's more right or wrong, or if the strategy is clever or not, but I will tell you this. The both of you have to _trust_ each other. That's how Quidditch works. It's pretty much how anything works, really. So what I would suggest, _instead of whacking your teammate_ ," You turned to the captain, now looking sheepish. "Is to try both strategies out. See what works, what doesn't. You'll waste a little time, but at least you'll know."

The both of them nodded in agreement and proceeded to hop on back to their brooms, not before grumbling and sending death stares at the other one, though. Staring affectionately at them, you realised, that perhaps teaching children was not that bad, after all.

15th October 1991

"Still no letter! If that man isn't dead now, he will be when I return and hex him for worrying me so much!" You exclaimed, exasperated. Snape was with you in your room, watching as you paced back and forth after Athena returned, still carrying no letter from Kenneth in her beak. In his mind, he wanted so badly to ask you who Kenneth was, or rather, what his relationship to you was. _Her boyfriend, probably, or husband even. If she's this worried over him simply not returning her letters, she must have had some sort of relationship with him before coming here. I knew I stood no chance,_ he thought as he buried his head back into a student's essay, choosing not to speak. He was feeling dejected from his own thoughts, his own mind ruining things for him, and he wondered why it hurt him so much whenever you mentioned the man back home, leaving him in a bad mood for the rest of the time you both spent together. You barely noticed this, though, you were too busy figuring out why on earth was your former captain not bothering to write you back.

20th October 1991

Snape felt different when he woke up. His body filled with a sense of dread, almost as if something was weighing him down. It was as if he knew something was going to go wrong today. He looked over from your armchair he was on to the figure of you asleep on your bed, the blanket he had draped over you the night before still on your body, your face lolled to the side. _You were still there, with him. So why was he feeling a little nauseous, as if the weight of the dread was pressing down on his stomach now?_ He watched as you adjusted the blanket a little, knowing the dungeons were colder than the rest of the castle, especially around winter. For the life of him, he could not figure out why he was feeling the way he did, as if he was waiting for an inevitable piece of bad news to throw him off. Shaking his thoughts, he checked that he still had time to go back to his room to prepare some last minute materials for his classes before he would come back to yours and wake you. Standing up from where he was, he gave your sleeping figure one last glance before shutting the door softly to your room.

 _It's nothing, he probably was overthinking things again. The stone was still safe-guarded, you and him had kept Quirrell at bay with no disturbances for the past month and Harry Potter and his friends were causing no trouble. So why was he feeling this way?_ Snape was never one to overthink, but as he tidied up the last of the essays he was going to return, he could not help but doubt himself. Returning to your room, he noticed you were awake. Your bed was made, and the blanket he had draped was already folded neatly into a corner. Hearing the shower run, he decided to wait for you to finish up in the bathroom before heading for breakfast together. Approaching your desk, he was going to sit when he saw it. He saw the answer to his worries. 

Athena had returned with a letter. A letter from the man you so desperately desired to write back. And finally he did. Snape should be happy, right? It would mean that you would stop yapping to him about how worried you were for the other man, how you could not think straight until you received a letter affirming you he was alright, how his friendship mattered most to you. But Snape was feeling anything but. 

You had ripped open the envelope and read the letter out, clearly. It lay on your desk, and as much as Snape willed himself not to read it, he could not resist. What he read next made his heart stop, however. 

It was paragraph after paragraph of the man assuring you that he was fine, that he simply took time off to consider his thoughts and write down what he really felt. It was really long and lengthy, the words Snape read as fast as he could in case you came out and saw him going through your personal items. He was about to finish when suddenly, all the words in front of him blurred as he read the last two sentences.

_Come back home, come back to me. I'm in love with you, I'm sure of it now._


	11. Halloween

20th September 1991 

It felt like the rug of happiness, the rug that made him feel like everything was finally going well in his life for once, the rug of security that _you_ provided him, was pulled out from right under Snape. He was falling now, with no safety net to catch him when he landed. He staggered, his mind still swirling with the words that seemed to start floating in front of him now. 

_I'm in love with you._ Snape could not control himself. This time, he knew, the mixture of anger, disappointment, and sadness in his veins whenever you were acting friendly to anyone other than him, or when you kept talking about the recipient of your letters, was jealousy. At first, he chalked it up to him being simply irritated that someone else was occupying his personal space other than you, after all, since you two seemed joined at the hip, you were almost everywhere together. Even when students would come to you late at night, reporting an accident or mishap that had happened in the Ravenclaw common rooms (they decided you were a better alternative to Flitwick, you were friendlier, more forgiving, in case anything happened) or coming to you for consultations in your office, they would often find Snape inside, already glaring at them when they walked in. You would tell them to pay him no mind as you tended to their queries, but it was difficult to do so when the black-haired man kept staring at them as if they had just interrupted his time with you. 

"You've got to stop scaring my students away," you said once, laughing as another student scurried off after you answered their questions, turning to him. He only shrugged, telling you it was how he was, and he could not change if he tried. Grinning back, you walked to the sofa he was sitting on and sat next to him, watching the fireplace crackle together. 

Now, that memory seemed distant. Snape did not have you all to himself, of course he knew you could not be only his, but even learning that someone else was _in love with you_ hurt. He questioned himself why he cared so much. You were just a friend, nothing more. Sure, he did enjoy having you around, spending time with you, having late night conversations where he could really be _himself, be vulnerable_ around you, looking at you and smiling whenever you laughed at another one of his snarky comments, the way your hair fell perfectly on your shoulders and your smile stretched when you were around him as if it was reserved only for him, the way your lips curved whenever you were listening to something he said. Your lips. A pretty pink shade resembling the colour of a rose, Snape had caught himself staring at them so often now, he was sure he had memorised their shape and how beautiful they were every time he looked at you. Sometimes, when he was all alone at night, lonely and longing for something, he would think of them. How they would feel against his, on his throat, his body--he stopped himself before he would allow his thoughts to run wild, though. Realising what he did then, he felt his blood go cold. _Just friends, my ass. Friends don't think about kissing their friend, the feel of their lips against them. Friends don't stare longingly at the other, hoping for something more than a handshake, a hand on the shoulder, a fleeting moment when your hands would touch when walking down the hallway as a form of contact. And friends definitely don't get jealous of a love profession_. Snape wanted to be more than friends with you. Horrified, he left the room when he heard your shower stop, not wanting anything to do with you and his stupid feelings.

You were just about finishing up getting ready for the day when your eyes landed again on the letter Athena had brought you. Gulping, you decided to shove it under a pile of books you had yet to tidy, not wanting to think about it first. You would get to it when you felt like it. Stepping out of your room, you waited by the staircase for Snape, ready to tell him your lesson plan for the day, how looking forward to seeing it unfold you were. Smiling at the thought of him sneering at you, telling you once again _the things you do for those children_ , before playfully shoving you, it made you look forward to seeing him. 

You waited for ten minutes, wondering why the man who was usually so punctual, was late. _Perhaps he woke up late?_ Nonsense, you heard him leave your room in the morning, which ruled out that possibility. _Did he run into some trouble getting his materials before class?_ He had mentioned to you that the class he was teaching, the seventh years that day, was going to handle some pretty difficult ingredients. You wondered if you should go to his room and help him, but, not wanting to invade his privacy, you waited. Leaning back against the wall, you crossed your arms and prepared the lecture you were going to give him when he showed.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and you were sure breakfast had started by now. You were growing impatient, your stomach growling at the thought of the pancakes you were planning to eat. _He better have a damn good explanation for making me wait this long,_ you thought, huffing as you stood there. 

By the time you decided to give up and meet him at the Great Hall, breakfast had started to end. Students could be seen shuffling out, giving themselves a head start before class began, and a few of the other professors did too. Snape was one of them. Spotting him out of the corner of your eye, you marched up to him, betrayed. 

"You stood me up! I waited for you for like, half an hour! Weren't we supposed to go together?" You cried, but he only averted his gaze when making eye contact with you. Not replying to you, you noticed he looked uneasy, as if something had taken up space in his mind today. You wondered if he simply _forgot_. Sighing, you decided to forgive him, moving past him to grab something before heading for your class. You were a little glad that he had not skipped breakfast, though, or else you would have to personally bring in food to his class and made him eat. He often skipped meals when he was preoccupied, and you vowed for him never to do it again, warning him of the health effects it could cause him before he would wave you away, calling you a nagging grandmother. Turning to give him a final look, you proceeded into the Hall. 

That night, he did not visit you in your quarters. Usually, the both of you would rotate by the week on who would spend their time in the other's personal quarters, marking students works and planning lessons together. Often, the both of you worked in silence, too focused to speak to each other, with only the scrawls of your quills taking up the sounds in the room. Words were not needed when you had each other's company. The silence was not uncomfortable, either, and you were glad you found someone you could be comfortable in silence with. Tonight, however, only the lonely sound of _your_ quill scrawling on essays could be heard. _What has gotten into him?_ You thought things were okay now, that the both of you had finally made up and become the best of friends. Just yesterday he was making fun of Quirrell with you in your room, laughing softly with that magnetic voice of his. Today, he barely looked at you throughout dinner, not speaking to you whenever you tried to strike up a conversation, only nodding ever so often. Exasperated, you stood up and walked over to his office, knocking on the door. 

He opened the door with a start. Glaring at the student he hoped had a good reason to interrupt his night, his expression changed when he saw you. You raised your brow, expecting him to move aside to allow you to enter, but his form was stiff. He stood rigid, studying you. 

"Yes?" Was all he could muster, because staring into your eyes definitely did not help his racing heart right then. 

"Are you alright?" Even after him actively ignoring and avoiding you the whole day, the first thing you asked was if he was alright. _I truly don't deserve you._ "It's just, you were acting a little...off today. A-and you didn't really speak to me at dinner, and...we were supposed to grade essays together..." You drifted at the last parts, suddenly feeling it was unjustified that you were mad at him for missing out on the few trivial things you did together. 

"I was busy. Dumbledore's uh...asked me to take care of some things, so, I apologise. I probably won't be able to join you for the next few nights, so, don't wait up for me," he replied, his voice curt. You knew instantly that he was lying, and you wanted to find his real reason for avoiding you. But he had stepped back, almost as if he did not wish to speak further, and you knew. He needed space. Deciding not to push his boundaries, you respected him enough to walk away, even if it costed you unhappiness at catching him in a blatant lie. Whatever he wanted, he needed, really, you would give him, but you only wished he would give you his time back. Even spending the night without him felt lonely. You sulked, walking back to your room. Suddenly the essays that were waiting to be graded felt more like a burden than something you looked forward to, and the chocolate frogs you had looked forward to share with Snape for the night did not seem so lovely to eat after all. 

"Professor (l/n), wait," he said before you were out of earshot, and you did not know why, but you hoped, really hoped, that he would follow you to your room, spend the night with you, and whatever weird day you both had today would be forgotten. But he stayed put. "Our deal is still on, right? With you watching for the boy?"

"Of course."

31st October 1991

It was Halloween. Snape was still acting distant, detached from you, and you wondered how much longer could he keep it up before he would come back to you once again. It was not like you did not try to get him back, you waited every day by the staircase for a few good minutes in case he decided to show, saved a seat for him in case he wanted to sit next to you at dinner, and even left your room unlocked (even though he had the keys) in case he changed his mind and wished to visit you. He never did. He stopped showing up for breakfast, choosing to eat in the solitude of his room, rejected the seat you always saved for him at dinner, asking Hagrid to switch with him every time you did so, and he never for once, visited you. You tried not to take it personally, but it _hurt_. Why was he treating you this way? You swore you did nothing to warrant for his behaviour, you even checked with Minerva and Dumbledore, and both of them agreed it was out of the ordinary for him to act so withdrawn. They tried asking him what was wrong as well (with you hiding in the shadows trying to hear what he said), but he simply shook them off and refused to say anything about you two. Now, your heart felt like it had been trampled over by him, and you longed for something, anything, to point you in the direction of what was happening to him. Even a smile, or a rude reply, you did not mind, not if it came from him. Anything he could give you then, you would accept it gratefully.

In contrast to your mood, the students were in the highest spirits for the occasion today. The castle had been decked out in shades of orange and black, the smell of baking pumpkins wafting into the nostril of every person who passed by the kitchens, and the ghosts even adding on to the spirit by scaring the students every now and then. Putting your feelings aside, you too chimed in in matching the festive mood to your classroom. You had spent the night before decorating the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, hoping it would take your mind off things. It did not work, but at least it paid off when the students' faces lit up as they entered your classroom, entranced by the glowing orange candles and tactful decorations. 

You did notice Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting together, but Hermione Granger had chosen to sit at the far end of the classroom, away from them. Almost wanting to ask if something had happened between them, you stopped when you decided not to meddle into their personal matters. _They'll make up soon enough_. The boys were already looking apologetic, but Hermione was still looking downcast nonetheless. Deciding to make her mood a little better for the festivities tonight, you chose her to answer most of the questions you threw out in class, allowing her to win points for Gryffindor. Her mood considerably improved after, with her thanking you after you offered a listening ear if she ever needed to vent. Still not speaking to the boys, she left for dinner herself after your class ended. 

Packing your things, you realised you too, would be heading to the feast alone. Usually Snape would wait for you after the last class of the day, heading for dinner together while discussing Quirrell's behaviour with him out of the way. But now, your footsteps were alone as you turned into the Great Hall, with Snape already sitting at the end in between Flitwick and Hagrid. He looked tired, as if he had been staying up at night like you were. His eye bags evident, his skin looked a little pale, and you wondered if he had been eating properly the past week. He watched as you took your seat beside Minerva, quickly averting his gaze when you made eye contact. 

The feast had barely started when Quirrell came running into the hall. His turban askew, he ran straight to Dumbledore, before yelling, "Troll--in the dungeons--thought you ought to know." You could see he was getting woozy as he uttered the last words, and he sank to the floor right after. Unfortunately, the whole school had heard what he said, and chaos ensued. 

Watching as your own Ravenclaws, who were supposed to be calm and always having a clear head, panic, you knew the situation was serious. In your years as a student, you had never come across any beast or monster, so this was definitely a big deal. Everyone was speaking at once, some even proceeding to stand to get ready to run, while Malfoy looked as if he wanted to fight the troll himself. Dumbledore had to set off firecrackers from his wand several times to get the complete attention of the students. 

After instructing the prefects on what to do, Dumbledore turned to the professors, and it did not need to be said that he needed all of you to look for the troll and take care of it before it caused more trouble. All of you prepared your wands in case the situation turned aggressive, and started to leave for the dungeons. 

For the first time since speaking to you that night, Snape swooped in front of you. His eyes searched yours, before he spoke. "I need you to trust me."

"Snape, if you're going to apologise now, it's not the time because--"

"No, listen to me (l/n)," He gripped your arms, and you watched as the other professors had already started filing out. "I need you to cover for me. I'm going to the stone, see if Quirrell's tried something."

 _Now he was being ridiculous_. "Snape, there's a troll here! Why would he--" Then it hit you. _He set up a distraction_. You had underestimated Quirrell if it were truly something he had done to throw you and Snape off. Nodding furiously at the black-haired man, you split ways with him as he started to proceed to the third floor while you followed the rest down to the dungeons.

You were with Minerva, Quirrell following closely behind as the both of you searched room after room for the troll. Minerva was surprised you showed no sign of fear, when she herself was a little uncertain on how things were going to go. It had been so long since she last used her magic for defensive purposes, she grew a little wary of her abilities. Noticing it was just the three of you when Dumbledore had split your team to include Snape as well, she asked you where he was. You reassured her that he was alright, and leaning closer to ensure Quirrell could not hear, you told her that Snape went to check if someone had tried to nab the stone while all of you were distracted. She was about to reply, the look on her face horrified, when a loud crash interrupted her. 

It came from the girls bathroom. Locking eyes with Minerva, the both of you started to run towards it. It had been a while since you last felt the pain on your knee, and you considered for a second if it was worth it to run, but you knew you had to take care of the threat before it started to harm students. So praying hard that your body would not protest, you threw yourself against the door where the loud crash came from. 

The sight that greeted you caused you to inhale sharply. Harry Potter was there, along with Ron and a very distraught Hermione, standing over the knocked out troll. Snape came shortly after, joining you, Minerva, and Quirrell at marvelling the sight before you. Quirrell looked like he was about to faint again, his fear overriding his system. Watching as he sat on a toilet seat, trying to gather himself, you wondered how on earth had he tackled all the Dark Arts issues before he even joined as a teacher. If even a troll had made him this scared, it was no telling on what would happen should he face a vampire or even a werewolf. Minerva, on the other hand, was seething. You decided not to speak first, locking eyes with Snape as he walked past the both of you to look at the ugly mess. He gave Potter a sharp look, before looking over to you. You could not read his expression, shifting your gaze to the trio instead. 

Minerva began to yell at them, and you knew your job was done. Luckily, none of them were in Ravenclaw, or it would be twice the hassle you and Flitwick had to deal with. Watching as Minerva dealt with them, you felt a newfound respect for the woman on how she tactfully handled the situation. Finally dismissing Ron and Harry, she asked you to follow her as witness, moving to report to Dumbledore.

After a gruelling two hours of sorting out the administrative issues the troll had posed, you were finally free. Stretching your limbs off the seat, you decided to finish up some last minute marking before turning in for the night. God knows you needed the quiet right then. Bidding goodnight to Minerva and Dumbledore, you proceeded to head to the staffroom. Ever since Snape had stopped coming over, you decided your room was too quiet, and you needed the white noise of the staffroom to accompany you as you marked. 

As you turned a corridor, you spotted the bat-like robes of the potions professor. Wanting to say something, you reached out, but he was gone by the time you turned.


	12. Returning The Favour

4th November 1991

Quidditch season had begun. A clear indication of that would be the drastic drop in the temperature, the windows getting foggy more easily, and almost everyone in Hogwarts had switched to their thicker robes and scarves, warding off the cold. Back when you still played, you remembered having to drink mugs of steaming hot tea to warm yourself before every game. It helped you steel your nerves, and comforted you, reminding you to treat every match the same, put in with your best effort. Aside from the temperature, the growing stack of letters of Kenneth was another thing to remind you of the season. You knew he had started going for matches, and as much as you wanted to support him through your letters, you still could not bring yourself to reread the first letter he sent, let alone the stack of others he sent in the days after. Your desk was now piled high with unopened envelopes, and Kenneth's own owl had grown tired of flying so far to Hogwarts to deliver his unanswered letters to you. 

The day before the Quidditch match, you dropped by to the Gryffindor common rooms to wish Potter good luck, knowing he would be playing against the Slytherins the next day. When you called his name out, however, he showed with a scowl on his face. Ron and Hermione followed, and you led them to your office before you decided to speak. 

"What's wrong? Why are the three of you acting like this?" You furrowed your eyebrows, puzzled. 

"Professor (l/n), you haven't...haven't spoken to Professor Snape recently, have you?" Hermione inquired, stepping forward. You slowly shook your head, truthfully answering them. They exchanged looks, and Ron sighed. 

"That explains it then. He's upset over you, and he's taking it out on Harry," Ron said. You sat straighter, intrigued. 

"Why on earth would he be upset? He's fine."

"Not since the both of you stopped appearing everywhere together. The whole school knows about it, you know," Hermione answered, when Ron elbowed her. Glaring at him, she continued nonetheless. "He's walking everywhere more sullen than he usually is, and today, he took the book you gifted to Harry right out of his hands!"

"Quidditch Through The Ages?" 

"Yeah," Harry softly said. He was dejected, you could tell. You knew Snape had a particular disdain for the boy, but taking away the book that had helped him understand and grow so much in the sport he loved dearly, it seemed off, even for the professor. 

"And why would he do that?" You asked. 

"We wouldn't know. Fred and George says it's because you broke up with him, now he's all hurt and taking it out on us," Ron said, but this time, it was Hermione that jabbed him on the stomach. He howled in agony, before you stood. 

"Professor Snape and I are just friends. And we're fine, really. Besides, Harry, you're doing great. You don't need the book to be better for tomorrow. You're prepared, trust me," Harry's face cracked a soft smile at your encouragement. "Now, move along and get some rest. You three have a big day tomorrow. And if necessary, I'll get the book back from Professor Snape for you," you said with a final resolve. The trio's eyes lit up, and you smiled as they thanked you, before leaving your office in a considerably better mood. 

Later that night, you contemplated on whether it was worth it to attempt getting the book back from Snape. The both of you were still on the strange phase of not talking, but only sharing glances at each other every so often at the dinner table, which left you feeling more confused than ever. Afraid that going to his room and straight up asking for the book would cause his mood to sour further and shut you out completely, you sighed as you silently apologised to Potter. You couldn't do it. 

Attempting to take your mind off a certain potions professor, you grabbed your marking materials off your overflowing desk and headed to the staffroom. _Broke up with him, I did no such thing,_ you sneered at the thought of the Weasley twins spreading that rumour to the school. It was not like you had not noticed the students' rumours regarding you and Snape. When the both of you were first started to be seen together, they had started wondering what kind of potion Snape had force fed you to _want_ to hang around him. You, the professor so many adored for your kind heart and amicability when dealing with students, and the strict, unreasonable Snape. What an unlikely duo. When the both of you started to walk together to the Great Hall for meal times, they further suspected that you were together. Fred had knocked on your room one day, asking for help in reviewing all the materials he had missed while being out and about during lesson periods. You shook your head, before inviting him in. As you were wrapped up in teaching him a concept, he suddenly saw Snape unlock the door to you room, and his eyes travelled between the both you in shock, his mouth agape. "It's not what you think--" you started to say, but the boy had already bolted off, grinning, no doubt telling his twin about it. Now, rumours that the both of you had broken up were once again surfacing, and you were sure Snape was aware of it too. 

Sighing, you unlocked the doors to the staffroom. Looking for a quiet evening, you were greeted with anything but. Snape was with Filch, the caretaker handing him some bandages. He was cursing, and your eyes travelled down to his leg, looking bloody and mangled. _Fluffy_. Gasping in shock, Snape did not even hear you, seething in pain as Filch watched him try to bandage himself. He must have gotten hurt trying to see the stone, and you berated yourself on how you did not notice his limp on the night his injury had happened. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, your voice shocked the potions professor. He turned, and clearly not expecting you to see him in the state, quickly pulled down his robes and tried to stand properly. But it was too late. You had seen everything. Looking over at Filch, you saw that his eyes were darting between the both of you, contemplating on what to do next. 

"Thank you, Filch. I can take it from here. I'm sorry for startling you," you kindly said to him, and he grinned, though with a few missing teeth, to Snape. He got his things, before turning once again to the man that was wincing from his pain. 

"Your girlfriend's here, Professor. I think you won't be needing me anymore." At which you watched incredulously as Filch smirked at you too before leaving the room. _I'm not his girlfriend,_ you wanted to say, but thought against it. 

The both of you stared at each other. He looked even more tired than the last time you had a chance to look him over properly, his eyes having sunken more and you noticed he was significantly skinnier. Not knowing what to say, you instead focused on his injury. His injury that he did not bother to mention to you about. It looked bad, definitely needing stitches and healing charms. You sighed, before grabbing the bandages on the desk. He started to protest, but you glared at him. 

"Sit." You wrapped your arm around him, guiding him to the sofa. At first, he stiffened, trying to reject your help, but with another glare shooting him down, he reluctantly hobbled over to the sofa with your support. Unwrapping the messy bandages he had put on himself, you winced as you saw the bloody mess that lay underneath. _How did he allow it to get this bad?_

"Professor (l/n). I--" 

"You're going to need stitches. It's going to hurt. So if you want to tell me _why_ you have been ignoring me for weeks while I fix you up to distract yourself from the pain, now would be the perfect time to do so," you told him as you grabbed a kit from the top of a shelf. Sitting back down, he watched as you sanitised your hands, before dabbing his wound with the cleansing wipes. He sucked in a breath, the sting unbearable, and you once again pushed him to talk. 

"I-I don't know what to say to you, really. If I told you the truth, you would never speak to me again. If I fed you with a lie, you would know," he moaned a little as you started suturing, "So--"

"Was it Kenneth's letter?" You cut him off. By then, you already had your suspicions, but you did not want to assume things. Looking up at him, he gave no reply, but you knew his answer when his eyes softened at your expression. _So it was. He's been ignoring me all because of a stupid letter that he misinterpreted. Why are men like this?_

"You shouldn't have ignored me. You could have talked to me, and I would have told you that I would do no such thing," you continued, threading through a particularly difficult area. 

"What...thing?" He gripped your shoulders now, the pain getting worse. 

"Going back home to him?" you scoffed, "As if I would throw my career away for a man. He must be some kind of delusional if he thought there was anything going on between us."

At your words, Snape looked away. Was he _delusional_ too? Had he been imagining a perfect reality of you actually caring about him, in his head too? 

"R-right. No, I was talking about the other part."

"How much of it did you even read, _prof_?" His heart sang as you used your old nickname for him. You were almost done, years of fixing up injuries for yourself and other players had taught you how to patch up wounds fast. 

"The...part where he said he was in love with you." You paused, the needle suddenly growing heavy in your hands. He noticed this too, and seeing your expression change made him regret even allowing the words to exit his mouth. You kept silent for a while, finishing up the last of your sutures. Grabbing the bandages by your side, you carefully wrapped up his leg, ensuring it was tight to allow it to heal properly. You finally turned to face him. 

"I was not looking for a relationship," you said, your expression unreadable. 

"But would you have pursued it if you weren't here? The relationship?"

"I...don't know." That was all Snape needed to hear. His heart sank when he knew you were _even considering_ dating the man, which meant, Snape had no chance. He felt hurt, betrayed, almost, at you. But why? It was not like you were his, he did not own you. He was _just a friend_ , he heard you telling Minerva one day. He did not deserve to feel the way he did, and if he did not get his act straight soon enough, he might lose your friendship too. And he would rather live resigned to being only your friend rather than not have you at all. _It was not fair_ , how he could not possibly get you out of his mind, indeed he never tried, but he could only wonder if you ever thought of him from time to time, not knowing how much he longed for you. Every time he thought his heart had settled, you had the nerve to smile that smile of yours at him, and he knew that would be the only image stuck in his head for the rest of the day. He was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you, but just like Lily, he knew you did not feel the same. 

You were studying him. He wondered if you were betrayed by him not letting you know of his injury. The truth was, he did not want to trouble you. Knowing you were already confused with his constant mixed signals and signs, he did not want to burden you further with the thought of having to take care of him. So as much as it hurt, he chose to push you away again. 

"I miss you," you said, your eyes searching his. He stared back, and willing everything in him to do so, he reached out to hold your face in his hands. You did not pull back, your face so close to him now you could see the finer lines beside his eyes. His hands were warm, comforting against the cold of your face. You wished you could stay like this with him forever, his beautiful black eyes staring into yours. No moment had been more defining for you than now. Staring down at his lips, you realised that you had been holding yourself back one too many times. First it was in favour of giving him the space, next it was in allowing him to come to you first. You wondered how much more you had to hold yourself back before you could get what you wanted. You had never been the one to initiate things in fear that he would reject you for doing too much. Now, you wanted to rid that method, that method of doubting yourself, caring too much. 

You leaned forward and kissed him.


	13. Friends

4th November 1991

Time seemed to slow as your lips moved against his. He was surprised, to say the least, and you were about to pull back, to apologise for coming onto him like that, that you would leave right away if he wanted, when his hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His other hand went to the small of your back, guiding your body to his. His heart flutters as _finally, Merlin, finally_ he got to taste the soft, plump lips of yours that he had been daydreaming of for the past month. Snape's head was spinning, not fully able to process what was going on. But all he did know, was that in your kiss, the world around him fell away. The pain from his wound suddenly faded into the background, the white noise in the staffroom almost nonexistent. All he could focus on, was you. The kiss was slow, soft, comforting in ways that words could never compare. And when you slowly pulled away, he felt his world spin again.

You looked _ethereal_. You were in your white robes, the robes that every student said complemented his, making the both of you look like the ying and yang of each other, balancing each other out, and your hair was in the messy bun you had on whenever you were preparing to spend the night marking. _No distractions_ , you always said, not wanting your hair to get in the way of your work. Frankly, you looked like your normal self, but to Snape, right then, you looked like an angel that had been gifted to him. He wanted to say something, anything, but with the moment you two shared then, he decided that staring into your eyes was all he could muster.

The moment did not last long, for _Harry Potter_ had opened the door louder than he intended to, peeking his head into the room. The both of you turned, and Snape felt his face twist in fury. He was ruining the moment, a moment Snape had waited far too long to experience. Staring at the boy, Snape once again gets reminded of how much he looked like his father, with the jet-black hair and nearly perfect face structure. His father, who had tormented Snape's childhood, his father, who had stolen the love of Snape's life from him. 

"GET OUT! OUT!" He yelled, and you jumped. It was a stark contrast to how he was like just a few seconds ago, and you realised he had once again put up the walls around him, the walls that he showed to everyone but you. 

Poor Potter looked terrified, his face going white. He was scrambling to shut the door, ready to run from Snape's wrath, when you stood. He must have been looking for the book. _Poor boy really could not sleep without it, could he?_ You walked over to where you noticed your book was, under Snape's items, and fished it out. Dusting off the front cover a little, you smiled as you walked over to Harry, shielding Snape from his view to calm him down. 

"You were looking for this?" He nodded vigorously as you handed it to him, "I told you you wouldn't need it, silly boy," you chuckled, "Now go, before Professor Snape yells even more."

He scurried off, turning once he was only down the corridor to thank you wordlessly, and you turned back to the potions professor. 

He was turned away now, the reality of the kiss finally settling in. Making your way back to him, you settled right beside him, carefully, afraid of his rejection, you lay your head in the crook of his neck. Miraculously, he let you be. Waiting a while to let him gather himself before you spoke, you noticed he had a tinge of redness on his cheeks when he looked at you again. 

"Are you feeling better?" You asked as you pulled his robes down, carefully setting his leg on the floor. He nodded. 

"What happens now?" He asked after a prolonged silence. His voice was small, unsure, and you realised this was one of the few times he was nervous. Scared too, perhaps. He was _afraid_ of what you were going to say to him. He probably thought you were trying to prove something to him, trying to get him to talk to you again by forcefully taking advantage and kissing him. A pang of guilt wrapped your heart at the thought, and you decided to play it off, as if the kiss was merely accidental, in the heat of the moment, and not one you had been wanting to share with him for so long. 

Shrugging, you could not look in his eyes in fear that it would give you away. "It was just a kiss. Nothing changes," you lied. Of course everything would change. You had just _kissed_ him. And he was staring at you now as if you had just told him you were leaving him forever, stripping him of all hope he had for you after the kiss. _You know I care about you. If I could, I would kiss you every day and every night, if it would take all your pain and sorrows away. But I would be taking advantage of your feelings for me when I'm not even sure myself that what I want is you,_ you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him how much he meant to you, how much the last month had been torturous without him, how much of a _bore_ life seemed without his laugh, his voice, his soft gazes. You thought that life was easy, but it was not true. Life was only easy with him in it, and when he leaves, it will be hard again. You did not want him to leave, burning him out by moving too fast or pressuring him to commit only to you, and you realised you were going back to your old ways. Always letting him be the one to decide, always holding yourself back in fear. But this was comfort. It was what you were used to, what your element was. And if doing it would do Snape better in the long run, you knew you could handle the tears in your heart while doing so. You would rather have some part of him than nothing at all. 

"I mean, we're still friends, of course. But..." You held his hand in yours, "...you need to be _my_ friend again. No more ignoring me, no more rules, no more fleeting glances in the hallways. I don't want to have to put up a front that we're okay when we're not. I want to be able to come to you again, seek comfort in your arms, tell you all about my day while we grade papers together. I want the _old you_ back...is that too much to ask for?" You asked. 

"Of course not." His heart was breaking, he could tell. Even after all that, you still considered him nothing more than a friend. What you had just described, what you wanted, was clearly not enough for him. He wanted to be able to hold you in his arms whenever he wanted, kiss you lovingly in the comfort of his room, hold hands with you as a form of reassurance, do things that _friends_ definitely do not do. But you were not looking for a relationship, that he knew. And as much as it hurt him to have to go back to being just friends, he could only agree. Snape would rather have some part of you than nothing at all. 

"But one thing that needs to be changed," he tried to joke with you then, hopefully taking his mind over the fact that his heart was bleeding right in front of you but you were not noticing it, "You need to stop calling me Professor Snape, (y/n). It's Severus."

You laughed at the mention of him calling you by your first name as well.

"Okay, Severus, let's get you back to your room. You need to rest for the night. Big game tomorrow, your Slytherins need you." You helped him stand, and this time, he leaned gratefully on you. As much as your rejection was hurting him, he did not want you to think he never wanted you. 

"Tsk, they'll manage."

5th November 1991

You were waiting outside of his door when he opened it. Surprised, he simply walked past you, expecting you to catch him in stride like before, when you grabbed his arm, turned him around, and kissed him again. 

"W-why did you--" He was dumbstruck. 

"I just wanted to. Come on, we're going to be late for breakfast." You held onto his wrist, dragging him up the staircase before he could protest. Confused, he could only follow. 

"Looks like they've made up," Ron whispered to Harry as they watched the both of you enter the Great Hall once again together. Severus definitely was in a lighter mood, his eyes were not narrowed, and if anyone squinted, a slight smile was gracing his features. Hermione noticed it as well. 

"It's for the better, really, that she's taken him back. Means he'll start treating us nicer again," she said, stabbing into a piece of sausage on her plate.

"Didn't she say they weren't together?" Chimed in Neville, to which Hermione gave him a scary look to. 

"That's what all the adults say when they don't want the children to know."

When you say you missed the atmosphere of the Quidditch pitch during Quidditch season, it was exemplified and made worse when you entered the Hogwarts pitch, now roaring with the crowds excited chatter and cheers, anticipating for the teams. Just a year ago, you were the one on the pitch, zooming through the crowd, their faces barely recognisable with how fast you were going. The wind was cold, but now as an audience member, it felt even colder without the adrenaline rushing through your veins, enough to warm you up throughout the match. You took your seat beside Severus, and watched as the crowd's cheers grew louder as the players appeared. 

Harry Potter was the last one to come out from the Gryffindor team, the Nimbus Two Thousand you and Minerva bought him clutched tightly in his hands. He turned to the audience, locking eyes with you, and you gave him a warm smile and a thumbs-up. He grinned, and looked over at the sign his friends had made for him, _Potter for President_. How cute.

At the loud blast of Madam Hooch's silver whistle, the game started, both teams energetic. The Gryffindor Chasers were in possession of the Quaffle first, but it was stolen by the Slytherins a few times before it came back to the Gryffindors again. The Weasley twins were surprisingly good at knocking the Slytherins with the bludgers, and from where you were, you finally understood the appeal of watching the game as an audience member. The rush was different from being a player, being able to keep your eyes on everywhere at once and watching the whole game unfold without having to worry about being knocked off your broom or getting hit by a bludger. The Hogwarts commentator, Lee Jordan, was incredibly funny as well, which added to the fun. 

Gryffindor scored, and you watched as Harry celebrated it quietly, out of the way until the Snitch would appear in his eyes. Just then, Lee Jordan mentions that he sees the Snitch fly by, and that got the whole of everyone's attention. Harry saw it, and dived down excitedly, but so did the Slytherin seeker. Now watching the both of them competitively chase it down, you realised that Harry really had put the book you gifted him to good use. He was amazing, even calm when Marcus Flint blatantly blocked him, tackling the foul situation well. 

That was when you noticed it. Harry had not noticed something was amiss yet, but you saw the slight twitch of his broom, as if someone else was controlling it. And then his broom lurched, and Harry looked like he just had a heart attack. The broom did it once more, as if actively trying to knock the rider off, and you wondered if you had somehow bought the boy a _faulty_ Nimbus Two Thousand. It can't be, even the cheapest, lamest broomsticks would never be able to lurch off its rider like that, so why would the Nimbus Two Thousand do so? You nudged Severus, who had noticed it too beside you. 

"Do something," you told him, but it looked like he was unsure if he should even help the boy. Giving him a look, he relented when he saw your firm gaze. _The way she has me wrapped around her finger,_ he thought. Pulling out his wand, he tried to right the boy's broom, but whatever mind of its own it had, the broom suddenly zigzagged, jerked, twitched, nearly knocking the boy off more than once. The crowd had their attention on him now, and you pressed for Severus to do more, but he was already waving his wand as discretely as he could while trying his best, so you looked around trying to find a clue as to what was happening. Who was practising this sort of Dark Magic around? Only someone who was clearly experienced in the Dark Arts would be able to do such a thing like this, you knew. But as you looked through the crowd briefly, you could find no such character. It could not have been any of the Quidditch players as well, for they were never taught such a thing. 

Harry was barely hanging on now, and you dearly hoped that whatever Severus was doing, was going to work. Scanning through the crowd, you could not help but notice that Quirrell was right in the first row, which would give him easier access to the boy's wand if he tried anything. Gritting your teeth, you knew it was him. You were just about to stand and go over to the twitchy professor yourself, when Severus yelped beside you. His robe had mysteriously caught on fire, but before you could react, it was gone as fast as it came. Glaring down at Quirrell, he was now looking squeamishly at the both of you. 

"Why, you--" you were moving down the steps now, ready to hit him, hex him, whatever. How dare he set Severus on fire just as he was about to save Potter? Not caring if anyone else saw you, you were about to raise your wand at him when you were drowned out. Suddenly the pitch erupted in a loud cheer, so loud you thought your eardrums were going to burst. Looking over at the field momentarily, you noticed Quirrell slip away, but the sight that greeted you made it all worth it. _I knew he could do it._

_Harry Potter had caught the Golden Snitch._


	14. Christmas Morning

11th December 1991

It was December, and Hogwarts was already preparing on sending the children home for Christmas break. Several chose to stay, such as Harry and Ron, and while most of the teachers usually went home to their families during the break as well, Severus chose to stay. He did not have anyone worth visiting back home, and the Muggle world did not seem very appealing now that he had something better with him at Hogwarts. Which reminded him, the lips pressed to his currently, the hands running through his hair, _you_ were the only appealing thing to stay behind for. The both of you were currently in your office, taking what you called a _quick marking break_ spent on each other. He did not mind one bit. 

Ever since that faithful day in which you found him with the bite from Fluffy, the both of you had been sneaking in kisses and make-out sessions every chance you got. From the spare supply closets, to empty classrooms, to (the one Severus loved best) each other's offices. Your lips were addictive to him, no matter how much he got them, he could never get enough. He noticed, that you were particularly in need of him whenever you had a stressful day, or if you were preparing for a tougher class to teach. This made Severus realise, that he was an outlet for your frustration, some sort of way to relieve the pent-up stress you had in you. Although he did not mind, he could not help but feel he needed something more, because aside from the heavy touches and kisses the both of you shared in those moments, you still treated him like a friend and nothing more. Whenever he tried to bring up your kisses, you always shrugged it away and kissed him more to shut him up. There were a lot of words unsaid between the both of you, but for the life of him, Severus did not dare to confront you about it. He told himself, after you left every night, to just enjoy whatever it was the two of you were having, and not push you too much. _She doesn't want a relationship, she doesn't want a relationship, she doesn't want a relationship,_ he had to remind himself before he went to bed every night.

"A-are you," he said between your kisses, "-going back home for-" you seemed insistent on shutting him up, "The holidays?" 

"I don't know, I'll see," you replied. There had been a lot _I don't knows_ in your replies lately. It seemed like you had been ignoring parts of your personal life, choosing not to think about neither the past or the future, instead focusing on the present with him. Severus could never get you to talk much during your make-out sessions, and if he did not know any better, he would notice that were talking less in general. Whenever the two of you would stay up late on top of the Slytherin tower to wait for the sunrise, your mouth would be on his, devoid of the usual conversation the two of you would have. There were no more deep, heart-to-heart talks with you, no more you telling him about your day, no more you telling him excitedly how happy you were when the students in your class all passed the pop quizzes you gave them, or even how much Quirrell was annoying you when you had to plan lessons with him. He realised, in exchange for your lips, he had lost the original you he fell in love with. 

"What's wrong?" You looked at his contemplative face, him taking a break to look, really look at you. 

"Nothing, let's carry on." His hands settled on your hips, and continued to take your lips in his. 

13th December 1991 

The dungeons were _freezing_ in December. If anyone thought that they were cold on the regular days, they would have frozen when they visited the dungeons now. You always had a problem with the cold, your chronic pain getting worse on days the temperature dipped. It left you in a bad mood often times, feeling the blankets, quilts, and fireplace were of no help in helping your body warm up. Your nose was always red, and you often thought about asking Dumbledore to switch your room during the holidays to an upper level so at least you had some warmth. Even the water in the shower, with the aid of your charms, was still impossibly cold when it ran, which did not help your predicament at all. 

Severus, one day noticing you flinch as you sat down in front of the fireplace, shot a look down to your knee. You had wrapped it in bandages, hoping it would provide extra stability and warmth, but not wanting to worry him, you had hidden it well beneath your robes. It did not deter him from reaching over and exposing it, though, and he clicked his tongue when he saw. 

"Why did you not tell me? I could have made you a potion to alleviate the pain..."

"It's nothing, I'll get used to it," you replied, already moving over to sit on his lap, pulling his lips closer to yours. He wondered if _this_ had been the cause of your bad mood lately. Casting a wandless charm, you instantly felt a warmth grow through you from your knee, and you sighed against his lips at the instant relief you felt. 

"Thank you," you told him, capturing his lips this time. His eyes settled on your desk now, watching as Athena flew in and dropped yet another letter on it. The stack had been steadily growing, with almost no space for you to even put your elbows on it. Breaking away from you a second, he suddenly realised something. Usually it would be Kenneth's owl that flew in, dropping his letters as it watched you two with a disapproving look in its eye, before flying away. Today, however, it was your owl that had dropped it. Pushing you off him for a second, he asks you who you had been writing to, since Athena got the reply quickly enough to bring it back in one trip. You turned, saw the familiar warm yellow envelope Kenneth had changed to lately, before looking away. You assured him it was no one, but Severus did not believe you. Standing up to see the sender, he felt a chill when he read that it was Kenneth's name. _You had been writing back to him_. 

You watched from where you were, not knowing what to say to him now. But then again, there was nothing for him to worry about. You and Kenneth were not a thing, certainly not after you politely rejected him in the returning letter you sent him after your first kiss with Severus. Besides, you and him would never work. Long distance relationships were never your thing, and like hell if you were leaving the job you had started to enjoy because of him. The both of you were okay now, and if Severus was going to freak out in the way he did when he read the very letter Kenneth sent you that told you he loved you, you would rather not reply to the rest of his letters first. That was, until one night, somehow feeling sorry for Kenneth, empathising with him because it was exactly how you felt when he did not return his letters, you decided to write back. The letter had been brief, you only updating him that you were alright and that things were going well at Hogwarts, not prompting a reply from him. However, he thought otherwise, and had been sending you twice the amount of letters he sent originally. 

"You wrote back to him?" Severus picked up the letter, inspecting it back and forth with his fingers. _A nervous tick,_ you knew. 

"I wanted to put his mind at ease. He...was worried. "

"Are the both of you together now?" 

You chuckled. "How could that be, Severus? He's him and I am me, and there is no chance of anything happening between us."

Severus was not convinced, but he let it go. 

25th December 1991

It was Christmas Day. You chose to stay, after all. Severus wondered why he was worried for a second that you were going home, when you never expressed any desire to do so. Like him, you had told him before that you had nothing to look forward to, that Kenneth, who you thought would be the closest thing you called family, was now in an uncomfortable relationship with you, so it ruled out the possibility of you wanting to see anyone back home anymore. He asked about your parents, your family, but you quickly shushed him with your lips, climbing onto him, and choosing not to reply. 

He woke up in his bed, alone. Before the kiss, the two of you would often sleep in one another's rooms, one person on the armchair or sofa, the other on their bed. Severus did not want to admit it, but sleeping with you in his room, he noticed the recurring nightmares that used to haunt him happened less, giving him more nights of peaceful sleep. That all changed after, when after your sessions you would hurriedly return back to your own room or Severus out of yours, telling him you were _tired_ , or _particularly busy_ , or having _lady problems_ , anything really, to ensure he could not talk you to allowing him to stay for the night. He wondered if you too had noticed the shift in your relationship with him.

But as much as he hated the position you both were in right now, all his anger and worries dissipated when he opened his door, and there you were, in your white robes with your hair styled to the back, grinning at him with that beautiful grin of yours. You would wait for him outside his quarters every morning to watch the sunrise together, though not much of it was watched now as on most days, the two of you would be too preoccupied on each other to see the skies change colours and the golden hues rise. 

"You look particularly cheerful today." He smiled at your own grin, noticing you were holding something behind your back. Pretending to try to see what it was, he narrowed his eyes when you brought it forward instead. 

It was a package, with his name scrawled on it with your handwriting. It looked heavy, and he was confused as to what you planned to do with it. 

"This is for...?" He picked the tag with his name on it, and you sighed.

"Severus, have you got any idea what day it is today?" you said, shoving the gift you had lovingly picked out for him at Twilfitt and Tatting's the week prior. 

"It's Christmas day, but what...o-oh." A blush had crept into his cheeks now, when he realised that you had prepared a _gift_ for him. It had also hit him, that he had not prepared a gift for you. Never once having received a gift in his life for Christmas, he had grown accustomed to not preparing nor receiving any from anyone, which was why he forgot the occasion even though he knew what day it was. 

"I-I..." He did not know what to tell you. Would you be offended he had not prepared a gift back? But if he simply took your gift without an exchange for something, it would not only seem rude, but unfair as well. Looking you up and down now, he was considering his options. But you had stepped past him, to the inside of his room, and beckoned for him to follow. 

"Quick, unwrap it, Severus. We still have a few more minutes before breakfast, and I want to see you wear it," you said, taking his arm in. He stood there stunned, not knowing what to do, which prompted you to sigh, and grabbed his wand for him, only waiting for him to unwrap it with the wand. He reluctantly took it from you, and setting the gift down, he whispered a spell that caused the wrapping to open. 

It was a robe. A brand new, onyx-coloured robe, with fancy buttons up in front and an intricate cutting lining the insides. The material looked soft, expensive. He noticed the price tag had been ripped off, but with the tag still indicating it came from one of the most expensive boutiques in Diagon Alley, Severus could not help but feel he did not deserve it. Growing up, he was never one to have much money, so he learned how to be thrifty, to save his money well, and not spend it on expensive items. Even the robe he has now, he's had it for years. It was well-worn, the few holes that had started to appear he would patch up. He knew he needed a new one, but he never had the time or energy to go to Diagon Alley and look for some secondhand ones. Now, presented with one that looked like it would belong in a movie set, so beautiful that even Gilderoy Lockhart would drool over it, he did not know what to feel. 

"Try it on," you said, and he reluctantly slipped it onto his shoulders, and you went up to his front to fix the buttons and his collar. Being so close to you now, he could smell your perfume, intoxicating him. His face started to go red, but if you noticed anything, you did not say it. 

"I was right, you look absolutely _handsome_. If you were to go out on the streets right now, any girl would be falling head over heels for you, Severus." You smiled proudly, taking a step back to fully admire him. Severus gushed at the compliment, trying to hide the tint in his cheeks by looking away. So rarely had he ever received compliments, he never knew how to react when it happens. Especially coming from you. 

"I...I'm not handsome."

"Sure you are. You didn't need the robe to prove it, but now with it on, you look even more stunning. Any girl would be lucky to have you." He could not tell if there was a tinge of sadness in your eyes to the mention of the last part, but remembering where the robe came from, he hurriedly took it off. 

"Take it back. I..." he watched your face fall. "...I don't want it."

"It's a Christmas _gift_ , Severus. I'm not asking for anything back." This was typical of him, pushing you away whenever he felt something, and it was not fair that he was prohibiting himself from experiencing joy when he was around you. 

"And I don't want it. You spent your hard-earned money on me, and I know what kind of shop Twilfitt and Tatting's is.” He shoved the robes into your arms, and your face fell even further. It broke his heart to be the one causing you to feel bad, but he needed to be strong now. He refused to take advantage of you. 

"It was nothing," you paused, not allowing tears that were threatening to fall to do so, "Quidditch paid well, you know."

"But you are a _professor_ now, and I don't need a new robe. The ones I have now are just fine."

"Why can't you just accept my kindness for once?!" You had enough of it this time. Tired of Severus always acting like whatever nice thing you did for him was an _inconvenience_ , making you seem like you were too overbearing, or that you cared too much, it was taking a toll on you. You just wanted to give him the best that he deserved, show him he was worth more than what he thought he was, let him know how much you _adored_ him, but he was always making things hard for you. You had spent the past few weeks scraping every minute of free time you had to walk up and down Diagon Alley over and over, trying to find a perfect gift for him. And when you saw the robe that would fit him perfectly at the shop's window, you did not hesitate to make the purchase. Money had never been a problem for you due to your family's background, but you did not feel the need for Severus to know that. You just wanted him to _accept_ you, for once. 

At your words, he went quiet. You did not realise while yelling at him, that the tears threatening to spill had started to run down your face, making your cheeks wet and your eyes red. _He made you cry._ The guilt had started to tug at his heart, overwhelming his senses. It felt like it was eating him up, a fire threatening to burn him alive at that. He stared at you for a second, watching as you immediately tried to wipe the tears off your face, turning away from him as you cried. You had willed yourself to stop it, stop being upset because that was just Severus' personality, and you could not change him even if you tried. You tried to justify that your tears were wasted, that it was not worth crying over Severus rejecting a Christmas present, but you could not. No matter how much you tried to stop crying, the sobs that racked your body kept coming, and you were just about to run out of his room in embarrassment, when you felt his arms wrap around you. You tried to fight him off, screaming at him that you did not need his pity, that you were fine, that you were going to take the robe and return it tomorrow, but he did not let go. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept saying softly to you, leaving soft kisses at the crown of your head. You wept harder now, and no matter how much you fought him to get off of you, he stayed. You were against his chest, your tears drenching his shirt. But still, he did not let go. 

"I love the robe. I really do. It's beautiful, (y/n). You know me so well, you knew I would love it, didn't you?" He comforted you as the sobs wracked your body once more. You could only nod softly against his chest. "You really do. And I'm so, so sorry for hurting you. I was just...I was scared, you know? I was scared that I was taking advantage of you, your kindness, your money. And it did not feel good to be taking advantage of you. Do you understand?" He continued, but you did not reply. 

"I care about you, I do. And it's deeply inconvenient for me, how much I care. I...have never cared about anyone else in the way I care about you. You, you ruin me, you know. But I swear, I never meant to hurt you. If I could, I would take it all back now.” Your tears had stopped, but your body was still breathing in sharp breaths, compensating for the energy you took to cry. He softly took your face in his hands, his eyes now softer, and kissed you softly, slowly on the lips. The kiss felt different from the rest, this time, it was slow, sweet, as if he was taking all the time in the world to appreciate you. He was gentle, different from all the rushed kisses and hands tugging at his hair make-out sessions you would give him. You always knew that despite his tough exterior, Severus was the kinder, gentler one of the both of you. As he pulled away, he smiled at you, and you willed your heart to slow down, afraid he could feel it racing. 

Moving to where you had shoved your gift aside, he took it carefully again, putting it on in front of you. 

"Let's go, we'll be late for breakfast," he said as he reached out for your hand. 

"You don't have to--"

"I want to. I love it."

 _And I love you_ , he thought.


	15. Firewhisky, And All It's Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do u guys want smut or nah aha 
> 
> doesn't matter i wrote it anyway skip the end of this chapter if u don't wanna

25th December 1991

Spending the rest of Christmas with Severus, the both of you decided to hang out in the comfort of your quarters, with you complaining that his quarters were far too cold as the reasoning for him being in yours. You were busy unwrapping presents from your old Quidditch teammates, Severus watching your cute huff whenever you were frustrated on how a package was particularly difficult to rip open. You tried to convince him to help you unwrap a few as well, but he rejected, preferring to sit on the armchair, butterbeer in his hands, watching you. 

" _Another_ bottle of Firewhisky! Do they think I'm an alcoholic?" You complained as you set the fifth bottle of firewhisky that had been sent to you aside. 

"Children are difficult. Your friends back home may have thought you needed something to take the pain away from teaching," Severus replied as he sipped his drink, grinning. His new robe was so comfortable, he did not feel like moving the slightest bit from where he was. You rolled your eyes at him, and tore open another package. It was a box of chocolate frogs, from Harry, Ron and Hermione. Apparently, they liked you so much that they had scraped their savings together, and gifted you a treat. Beaming, you held it up to Severus proudly, as if to show him how proud you were that your students had gotten you a gift. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. 

"Don't worry, Sev, I'll share it with you," you teased as you turned away to grab the next present, but his mind was reeling at the nickname you had just given him. _Sev_ , oh he was in deep if even a nickname you gave him was melting his heart.

As dinner came around, you realised that you and Severus were already somewhat full from snacking on the treats your friends had sent you, and he asked if the both of you even needed to head to the feast. You laughed and moved your head, which had been resting on his chest, to kiss him. 

"We do. Dumbledore and Flitwick can't be the only ones there, remember? Poor them," you reminded him, and he groaned, before sitting up. 

When you entered the Great Hall, you noticed the Weasleys, along with Harry, were wearing matching sweaters, which was such a cute scene. Nudging Severus to look at them, he only grunted when he laid eyes on Potter. Dismissing him, you turned to the feast, instantly reminded on how extravagant Christmas was at Hogwarts. The feast, like always, was bountiful, and as you and Severus settled down beside Dumbledore and Flitwick at the high table, you were suddenly glad that you had not missed Christmas dinner. 

Watching as Harry Potter and his friends opened yet another Christmas cracker, only for it to blow up in Percy Weasley's face epically, you laughed. You were glad, frankly, that some of them stayed behind, it would make Christmas less lonely, and like the saying, the more the merrier. Dumbledore was laughing at something Flitwick had just said, and Hagrid, even in his clumsy ways, was asking for more and more wine. You looked around, with Severus beside you, along with the people at Hogwarts, and you realised, this was your home. This was where you belonged. It was surprising what you thought would be a temporary job contract for you was now very quickly turning into something you wished to do for life, and you were truly thankful for the opportunity. You hoped things could stay like this forever. 

After dinner, you and Severus returned to your room, you already buzzing from the alcohol served at dinner, and him happy to comply to your kisses as you dragged him across the dungeons with you in his arms. Entering your quarters, you broke the kiss for a moment to light the fireplace, and being left alone for once, Severus suddenly remembered that he had not gotten you a gift. Even your friends back home, who you communicate with less frequently than him, had sent you presents. Embarrassed, he thought desperately on how to make it up to you, the robe he was wearing now suddenly weighing impossibly heavier. 

"(y/n), can I speak to you for a minute?" He had to come clean, in case you were expecting some sort of grand gesture or present from him, and he did not want to get your hopes up. Although he did not want to let you down either, he figured the truth would be better for you to hear sooner rather than later. 

"Just say it, Sev, I'm going to clear some of these Firewhiskys while you do." You were moving all the presents off the floor with your wand. 

"I...I don't have a present, for you. I forgot, and usually nobody I know gifts me anything, so I don't really have anyone to gift either, and I know that's not a valid reason, because you—" he started to say, but stopped when you smiled lovingly at him, holding up two bottles of Firewhisky. 

"I wasn't expecting a present, Severus. You should know that by now. Whatever I do, it's not because I expect something in return from you," He still felt guilty, but you reassured him. "If you really want to gift me something, though, you'll help me finish a few bottles of these Firewhiskys tonight. I can't possibly finish them all myself, and I don't think Dumbledore or Minerva enjoy drinking very much."

He smirked, before taking two long strides to you. "You—" he kissed your cheek, "are," the other one then, "—insufferable," he ended with a kiss on your lips, and you smiled against his mouth. Cracking open the bottles, you began to pour the bronze liquid into two glasses. 

By the time midnight struck, the both of you had finished four bottles of Firewhisky together, spending half the time talking about the past year, and the other on each other. You were definitely past tipsy by then, and with Severus lying on the floor in front of you, his own ears red and his eyes glassy, you knew he was in a similar predicament too. Your mind was drifting in and out like the tides, your vision wavering, and you noticed that it was the first time you had been drunk since joining Hogwarts. With no children around to disturb you in the night, and no further responsibilities to complete before the next day, you felt like you were on cloud nine next to the Potions professor. Staring at him then, you saw that he had his eyes shut, but he was awake. His hair a little swept to the side, his cheeks tinted slightly, and him wearing the robe you picked out for him, he looked striking, even intoxicated.

"Sev, are you asleep?" You wanted to be sure, and he opened his eyes and hummed in response. 

"What are you thinking about?" You asked, and he sat up, turning to face you.

"Y-you," He slurred, appearing more gone than you were. 

"What about me?" You stood to head to your bed, suddenly feeling the alcohol hit harder. You needed to lie down. 

"How...beautiful you look tonight. Wearing those robes of yours, your hair, how it cradles your face perfectly, your eyes, your lips, your nose, your everything." He sighed, and you felt your heart swell at his words. Blushing brightly then, you decided to brush him off. 

"You're just drunk. And drunk you talks about things you don't mean." He stood, coming closer to you as if to admire you. 

"Yes I am drunk, but you are beautiful. And tomorrow I will be sober, but you will still be beautiful."

Immediately, you sat up to kiss him, pulling him down onto the bed with you. No one has ever said those words to you before, no one has poured their heart out, made you go insane with love, made you lose your senses, like him. Through the alcohol flowing in your veins, you moved your lips for the first time ever, to his throat. He settled down onto the bed on top of you, and you continued to leave open mouthed kisses on his throat as he palmed your body through your robes. Wanting to feel more of him, you quickly took them off, leaving you in a white shirt and the flowy pants you always wore to classes. Disrobing him in return, you were about to take off the shirt underneath when he stopped. 

"A-are you sure about this?" He asked, and although his eyes were glassy and the both of you were drunk, very drunk, you were absolutely sure you wanted him tonight. 

"Yes. Are _you_ sure about this?" You asked in return, making sure he was comfortable. A flash of uncertainty appeared across his eyes, and you immediately took your hands off of him. Groaning at the loss of contact, he pulled your hands back to his body, before nodding. Still uncertain, you pulled them off again. 

"Severus, I'm serious. We don't have to if you don't want to," you emphasised how important it was that he felt okay to continue, but he only shut you up with a kiss this time. 

"I want to. But," He looked away for a moment, as if something was holding him back, "It's been a while since... _you know_. A-and I..." He trailed off, and you pout cutely. 

"It's alright, we can take our time, there's no pressure," you reassured him, gripping his neck to pull him in once again. He thanked you deeply by moving his lips to your neck after, sucking at your pulse point until it turned a deep purple colour. Not wanting to wait any longer, he sat up, pulling your shirt over your head, before unbuttoning your pants. You lifted your hips to help him, and once you were left in your undergarments, he took a moment to sit back and _look_ , really look at you. You took his breath away, he knew this, but now with you spread on the bed like this, only in your undergarments, he felt like the air had been knocked straight out of his lungs. He looked down, and upon noticing the damp patch that had started to form on your knickers, he felt his pants instantly grow tight. 

You moved up then, taking your turn to undress him, and he roughly shrugged away his shirt, before helping you to pull off his pants. His breaths had started to grow heavy, and you kissed him gently, as if to calm him down. Severus struggled to unclip the hook of your bra, and chuckling against his lips, you helped him to remove it, throwing it to the side of the room. Looking down, you noticed his boxers had become awfully tight, a tent growing rapidly behind it. Wanting to ease him out of his misery, you slid your hand in, stroking his hardened member. He moaned, loudly, and you felt an instant rush of dampness in your knickers. Wrapping your hand around him, you started to pump gently, stroking him as he removed the last article of clothing from his body. He was big, you could feel, for your hand could not even wrap around him fully. 

"I-I'm not going to last if—" He stopped to take a deep breath,"—You keep doing that."

You smiled again, this time sliding your knickers down your legs, and he groaned again as he watched the web of fluids that followed with them. You were so ready for him, and he knew. Guiding his throbbing member to your entrance, he paused one last time to look at you, and you nodded at him, reaffirming him that you were okay. He entered at a slow pace, groaning as he felt your tight channel overwhelm him. 

Severus was bigger than you thought, and a slight pain flared through you. Wincing, you hoped he did not notice as you shifted a little to accommodate to the stretch. It hurt, but it was going to feel so good after, you knew. Sucking in a breath, you tried to relax as he pushed all the way into the hilt. It appeared as if he was struggling himself, a string of curses escaping his mouth as he adjusted. He looked up at you, and you notice something in his eyes, something different about him. It was a look of adoration, of affection. As much as you did not want to, your heart swelled once again. _No, he's just drunk and horny, he cannot be in love with me,_ you thought as you nodded at him again, giving him approval to move. 

He rocked his hips rather clumsily against yours, but with the angles that he was hitting inside of you, you were moaning throughout, your nails scratching his back roughly to get a grip on what was happening around you. It took him a while to get his speed and angles right, but once he did, he was thrusting into you as if there was no tomorrow, and you felt your bed rock against the wall as the both of you moved languidly against each other. The pain had turned into pleasure then, and you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head as he started to hit impossibly deeper into you, you welcoming every thrust of his. His eyes were closed, you noticed, and you softly cooed against his ear to open them, to _look at you_. Once he does, however, it was as if something shifted inside him. 

"I-I'm gonna—” His moves were getting sloppier, and you knew he was close. Rubbing your hand over your clit, you were not expecting to come as fast as he did, but when he _moaned_ your name right beside your ear, you instantly felt hot, white flashes in front of you. You were being thrown over the edge, your climax fully claiming your body as you screamed. Although still feeling his thrusts against you, your head was too meddled to notice as the electric spikes ran through your brain, making you go higher and higher, as if your body was disassociating. 

His thrusts began to slow, instead hitting deeper, longer strokes, before he groaned a final time, and pulled out, coming undone all over your thigh. 

Both of you catching your breaths, you stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Despite the freezing temperature, Severus was sweating, and you took your time to admire him as he paused every so often to calm his heartbeat down. Still panting, you pulled him down to lay beside you. 

"W-was that okay?" He asked, unsure of himself once more. In response, you pulled the blanket over you two, before kissing him deeply, your hands threading softly into his hair, something you had discovered would calm him down quickly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him as you lay on his chest. 

"It was more than okay, Severus," you told him, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. 

Needless to say, the both of you fell asleep in each other's arms.


	16. Under The Carpet

26th December 1991

Severus woke to the feeling of soft, butterfly kisses all over his face. Fluttering open his eyes slowly, he grins as he sees you looking down at him, your beautiful eyes staring into his. He wondered if he was in a dream, to be able to wake up to you like this. You bring your forehead closer to his, nuzzling in his warmth for a while, before pulling away. He notices you are already dressed, and groans as he looks at the bedside clock beside him. It was nearly eleven in the morning, meaning he had skipped breakfast, but his eyes widened when he realised, it also meant that he did not have his usual nightmares the previous night. He slept peacefully, and he did not wake in the middle of the night in a puddle of cold sweat, panting for his life, like he always did. His sleep was not fistful, it was uninterrupted and gave him a proper chance to rest, all thanks to you. Speaking of which, you had made your way over to his side of the bed, and prompting him to spread apart his legs, you sat between them, a plate of breakfast in your hands. He looks at you lovingly as you bring the fork up to his lips, and he felt like he was falling in love all over again. 

"You're up early," his morning voice was deeper and raspier than usual, and you hated your heart for beating so fast every time he does anything remotely attractive. 

"One of us has to; or we'd both starve for the rest of the day. And breakfast's the most the important meal, Severus."

He laughs, and pulls you closer to him. Memories of the previous night filled his memories, and as he stares at you now, against his chest, busy taking bites of your breakfast, he wonders if anything was going to change, or if you would simply shove it under the carpet again as something friends did. Did it mean more to him than to you? Because now you were acting as if nothing had happened, but it was typical of you to do so. You avoided confrontation if it inconvenienced you, and talking about the strange relationship you and Severus had was at the prime of the conversations you wanted to avoid. _Maybe you regretted it_ , the scary thought passed his mind, and he subconsciously removed his arms from around you. You notice this, and turning to look at him properly since you came back to your room, you saw the same uncertainty and uneasiness that were in his eyes before appear again. 

Putting the plate down, you clutch his face in your palm. He leans into the comfort, and you smile at the gesture. 

"What's bothering you, Sev?" you ask, and he only scowls in response. "You can tell me anything, you know that right? I'm your best friend." 

There it was, the confirmation he was looking for. Even after last night, after everything the both of you had done together, he was still only a _best friend_. Had last night not meant anything to you? Was he simply a one night stand, a fling that you threw aside once you were bored of him? _No, you knew how hard it was for him to trust people, to allow them to enter his life, even. You would do no such thing._ Although, now he was not so sure. 

"Nothing, I-I have to go," he threw the blanket aside, and started to gather his clothes. You study him for a moment, before what he was doing dawned on you. 

"No, you're not going. You don't get to do this again, leave any time it is convenient for you to do so. You don't get to push me away whenever you are unsure of yourself or your feelings. You have to _tell me_ if I did something to hurt you, or if something is bothering you. I don't want to have to guess what I did wrong every time you push me away, do you understand that? No-" you move forward to block the door, "-I refuse to get ignored by you. Your silence kills me, don't you know that?" 

He was silent. Darting his gaze to the fireplace, he refuses to make eye contact with you, because it would _break_ him. He wanted so badly to tell you how much he loved you, how much it killed him to only be a friend, when all he ever wanted was all of you. _Could you not see that you were clearly the one for me?_ He wanted to scream, shout, throw whatever was nearest to him at you with how frustrated he was. Severus loved your physical appearance and whatever you had given him and his body, but he wanted more than that. He wanted to be able to pick apart your brain, have those deep, heart-to-heart talks he had cherished so dearly, consult you for the things he did not know how to deal with, seek comfort in your words when he has had a particularly difficult day. Your lips, your hands, they were magnificent, but they could never compare to your brain. And he realised, he needed you, all of you, not just someone who could make his head spin and his body feel good when you felt like it. Was it selfish for him to want such a thing? Was it selfish that everything he feels, returns to you somehow?

But you don't see him the same. At least, that was what he thought of you. You probably saw him as the sad, lonely potions professor who only returned to Hogwarts because his Dark Lord and Death Eater friends were gone. The professor who needed a friend, a person he could rely on, someone you befriended for convenience's sake. The professor, who, just so happened to be the first person that you got to know well of, and just so happened to like him enough to want to hang around. He, too, wondered what sort of luck he had when you stuck around for so long, with the students spreading the rumour that he had somehow force fed you a potion to want to be around him. Rarely did he get affected by such insults, but whenever it involved you, he let it get to him personally. He was but an unattractive, withdrawn, damaged wizard, while you, you were the youthful, attractive, affable ex-Quidditch player that was somehow stuck with him. His insecurities did not usually hit him so hard, but at the realisation right then, he was horrified that you even considered being with him, kissing him, sleeping with him. You had a way of seeing beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when the person could not even see it in themselves. 

"Severus, talk to me," you pleaded this time, and the panicked look in his eyes was causing your throat to go dry. _Merlin, did he regret last night? Did he regret sleeping with me? I just ruined everything, haven't I? I've just lost the one good thing that's happened to me so far_ , you cursed. "Severus, if you regret what we did last night, if you regret letting me take advantage of you like that, especially when you were not sober enough to make a sound decision, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault, I should not have-"

"I do not regret last night," he cuts you off. You were dumbfounded, wanting to say more, to apologise profusely for what you did to the absolute magic of the man you had fallen for, but instead, he looks up at you, and he moves forward to where you stand. His eyes search yours, and you saw it again, that unmistakable look that he gave you last night. _It's nothing, you are just overthinking._ Your breath hitches as he corners you, his arms beside your head. 

And then his lips crash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs. He was rough, sloppy, and your teeth clashed with his as he grabs your neck roughly to angle your head to his. He forcefully bites your lip as you yelp in surprise, and you could taste the metallic tang of your own blood in your mouth. 

"Sev, what-"

"Shut up, please shut up and let me have you. I do not regret last night, and I won't regret that we're going to do it again now," he hushes you, his hands now travelling lower, "Just please, shut up and let me have you."

You wanted to say more, tell him that sex was not going to solve the problems that were clouding his mind, but every time you tried opening your mouth to protest, he shushes you up with another rough kiss and moves to bite your neck, a mix of pain and pleasure washing through you. Knowing it was futile to press him when he did not feel like talking, you could only comply to his wishes, letting him vent out his frustrations on you. If it meant that he would feel better, you paid no mind to letting him do what he wanted to you. 

He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carries you to the bed again.

30th December 1991

Feelings were easier if they were not spoken about, that much Severus knew. Because for the past few days, if not for the trips to the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the both of you had spent the time tangled in each other's bodies. He knew it was wrong, to ignore the conversation that had been teetering into dangerous territory that the two of you were having four days ago, but frankly, he did not care. _Carpe diem, was it?_ He found out that you had him and he had you, and perhaps, that was enough. Perhaps labels could never define the both of you, and because he had always been traditional, having everything prim and proper, he failed to see that labels were not necessary for what he had with you. If you wanted to be friends but treat him differently, he did not care. All that mattered was that he had you, and he was never going to let you go. 

The winter break was also ending soon, and he decided he did not want to waste the uninterrupted time he had with you before school began again. And so he had planned a surprise trip to Hogsmeade with you, hoping you would be at least receptive to going with him. Frankly, he knew you were going to say yes, but with all his knowledge and intuition he could never entirely predict you, another magnetic fact of yours that drew him in. 

"(y/n), wake up," you had fallen asleep on the couch, entirely exhausted from the night before, "-let's go to Hogsmeade."

You open your eyes in alarm at what Severus just said, and instantly sat up. 

"H-Hogsmeade? That's like, so far away, Severus! We won't make it back in time even if we leave now."

He chuckles at your cute exclamation. "That's why I've booked us an inn for the night, silly girl. Now, get your robe on, we have to hurry if we want to see everything you always claim you miss outside of Hogwarts."

Your face lit up at the mention of him remembering something you only told him in a fleeting moment, and kissed him in response to thank him.

If Severus could only see one image he wanted for the rest of his life, it would be the glowing face of yours as you both reached Hogsmeade. You looked so happy, so ethereal, Severus too, smiled when you giddily told him how excited you were, clutching onto his arm. Walking through the various shops, he saw the childlike innocence you had, how excited you were over the simplest things, like him buying you a packet of sweets from Honeydukes, or you enthusiastically showing him the newest Quidditch equipment at Spintwitches. At the end of the night, the both of you retired at the inn he had booked, you carrying a mountain of sweets and him trying to help you ease the load, only for you to slap his hands away, telling him you got it. He grins, holding onto his only purchase, a new cauldron, and ruffles a bit of your hair to annoy you. 

He realised, that in that moment, he was the happiest he had been in a long, long time. With you by his side, the world drowning away, and him finally being able to be himself around someone, he felt like he could conquer anything. But then again, with how maddeningly frustrating you were at times, he also figured that if he could deal with you, nothing was too difficult for him to deal with. 

8th January 1992

School had begun, the winter break over. Whatever happy little bubble (Severus could compare it to a honeymoon, that was how happy he was) the both of you had, it was over as the students started coming back, and the workload began to pile up. He was still spending nights at your quarters, although now with Quidditch season ongoing, you were often at the Quidditch pitch with the Ravenclaws until late, to Severus' dismay. You were giving out pointers, patching up small injuries so the players did not have to make the long trip to the infirmary, and ensuring they were all friendly with each other. A fight would be the last thing they needed to tear up their team dynamics. Severus wanted to join you some nights, but the Ravenclaw captain, as terrified as he was by Severus' murderous gazes at him, stood his ground by not allowing him to watch. He would refute, telling the captain that he was not the slightest bit interested in their practice, only there to ensure they were not getting charged for your murder in case you played with them again, but still, he was not allowed entry. You found it sort of endearing, how insistent he was to spend time with you, so often after the Ravenclaws finished practice, you would sneak into his room, and with him already asleep, you would surprise him by slipping into the covers with him. Whether or not the two of you got frisky, depended on how furious he was with the Ravenclaw captain that day. 

"Professor Snape's just here to spy on us and report to his Slytherin Quidditch players later on, you know, Professor (l/n)," Thalia said to you once, when they had just shooed off Severus from the pitch again. You snickered, shaking your head at her. "I'm serious! _You_ have got to keep your guard up when you hang around him too, Professor. If our strategies are leaked to those damn Slytherins, it's game over! And we will hold _you_ accountable."

"Are you threatening me, Miss Florentine?" you pretended to be hurt, your hand over your heart, and she grinned. 

"Yeah."

"Believe me, Thalia, Quidditch is the last thing the both of us will ever talk about. Professor Snape really has zero interest in the sport, I've tried getting him into it several times, but that man refuses to even try to like it."

"Oh I'm sure the both of you don't do much talking, not when you're alone with him," she retorts, and you glare at her, reaching to drag her broom from right under her. _How dare she-_

"Thalia!" you yelled after her, but she was already running away, smiling playfully at you. 

"You're still my favourite, Professor (l/n)!"


	17. Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooo

14th January 1992

One night, as you were making your way to Severus' room after Quidditch practice, you heard a sharp whisper of your name, coming from behind a corridor. Drawing your wand in case Quirrell had tried something again, you slowly walked over to where the sound came from, your back against the wall as you moved. 

It was Harry Potter and his friend, Ron Weasley. Sighing in relief, you shoved your wand back in your robes, before realising something. "What are the two of you doing out here? It's way past bedtime!" 

Ron looked at Harry, unsure, but Harry nodded confidently at him, as if to say _she's alright, she won't snitch_. Narrowing your eyes at them, Harry lowered his voice as he spoke.

"Professor, we...want you to see something."

"Harry, whenever you utter those kinds of words, usually they don't lead to very _good_ discoveries.” You were wary, you should be sending the boys to bed, not speaking to them as if they were your friends.

"Trust us, Professor. Please, just this once," Ron pleaded, obviously batting his puppy eyes at you. You sighed. Normally if it were any other teacher, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, or the worst one, Snape, the both of them would have been sent straight back to the Gryffindor common rooms, with House points taken from them. _But they trusted you,_ and obviously it was important enough that they had to come to you for it, so, with a threat that you were removing a hundred points from Gryffindor if they ever tried something like that again, you followed them as they led you to the upper floors of the castle, weaving in and out of corridors, until you arrived at what looked like an unused classroom. The room was old, dusty, with desks and chairs piled against the walls as if to keep intruders out. You looked around, raising an eyebrow at how the boys had even found the room. In your years as a student, you did not even wander this far into the castle, even though your position as a prefect allowed you certain loopholes. 

"What—” Your voice was cut off as the boys ran in front, to what looked like an old, giant mirror. With it's ornate gold frames and clawed feet, it was unmistakable what it was. _The Mirror of Erised_ , you remembered learning about it during your time at Hogwarts. You watch as Harry steps in front of it, and takes in a breath at what he sees. His greatest desire, right in front of him, it must feel overwhelming.

"What do you see, Harry?" You propped yourself up against an empty desk, looking at him as he stares at the reflection in awe. His face hid a tinge of sadness under his grinning demeanour, and you watched as he carefully stepped back. 

"M-my parents. My family, Professor. How could that be?" He turned to you, allowing Ron to take his turn in front of the mirror, the red-haired boy's face lighting up too. 

"It's called the Mirror of Erised, Harry. It shows you your deepest, darkest desires. What you want most in life, it will show you. But, it has caused the downfall of many wizards and witches before you, too entranced in it that they fail to see the life around them. Do you know what a double-edged sword is, Harry?" 

"Hermione spoke of it once..." He answered, looking back at the mirror. 

"It is exactly that. There's a reason the Headmaster chooses to place it here, Harry.” At your words, Ron turned to you, beckoning you to come look at your own reflection. You hesitated, wondering if you even wanted to see your deepest desire. You knew it did no wizard any good to dream, live in a reality that is untrue, instead of focusing on what was right in front of them, but the boys were giving you a pleading look again, and you relented. Stepping in front of the mirror, you took a few breaths to calm yourself, before looking straight at it. 

"What do you see, Professor?" Ron was by your side. 

"U-uh...” You decided to lie, knowing the boys could not tell anyway, "...I see myself in a room stocked to the brim with many, many boxes of chocolate frogs."

Harry and Ron snickered behind you, and you turned to ruffle their heads roughly. 

"Everyone has their own unique desire, Potter, Weasley. Now let's get you back to your rooms before I take away twenty points from Gryffindor for you making fun of _my_ desire.” You moved past them to exit the room, your heart pounding at what you saw in front of the mirror yourself.

_It can't be, that cannot possibly be my deepest, most desperate desire._

16th January 1992

Still reeling from what you saw in the Mirror of Erised, you decided to go up there a second time. You waited until Severus was snoring softly beside you, before gathering your robes and putting on your shoes to head swiftly up the stairs to the classroom where it was stored. You would have expected anything, anything at all, rather than _that._

Rushing to the classroom at breakneck speed, you shut the door as quickly as you could when you entered, hoping it would deter any unwanted visitors away. 

Taking a deep breath, you willed your racing heart to calm a little before you would look at the reflection a second time. Clenching your fists, you walked up slowly until you reached the mirror, steeling yourself. Lifting your head, you looked straight at it again, but the scene had not changed. _Damn it, why couldn't it be anything else?_ Perhaps the mirror was wrong, perhaps it was faulty, showing untrue desires, that was why Dumbledore kept it hidden. That could be a reason, right? A reason for you seeing the scene right in front of you. You had expected your desire to show perhaps you being a professor, finally happy, at Hogwarts, or being the Head of the Ravenclaw House, or even, if you dared dream, _a future with Severus_. But instead, what greeted you was Kenneth, and the whole of the Falmouth Falcons team around you. 

Their faces were of them beaming at you, some with their hands waving, the others with their broom clutched, ready to take off to play. Kenneth was right beside you, a grin on his face too, but this time, he looked...happier. Knowing him as the brash, arrogant captain that could command the respect of anyone with just his booming voice, Kenneth looked...different now. His smile was softer, his gaze kinder, and he was staring right at the figure of you in the reflection, his arm around your shoulder. You were holding the Quidditch World Cup trophy, the robes of the Falcons still the clothing you had donned. You hair looked darker, your skin more tanned, as if it was because of the hours you had spent clocked on the pitch. Moving closer, you wondered if this was what you really wanted, what you could have been, or what would be your future. Not long ago, you had just personally declared Hogwarts your home, but now, you were not so sure. 

"(y/n)? What...are you doing here?" The door creaked open, and Severus had stepped in, noticing you right in front of the giant mirror. You turned to him, your face still ridden with shock, and he closes the door before approaching you. 

"It's late, and when I rolled over in my bed, you weren't there," he said, but you still stood there, horrified. He shifted his gaze from you to the mirror now, and sighed. 

"That mirror is bad news, you know," he said softly, but you had stepped aside. Reaching for his wrist, you pulled him to the front of the mirror, asking him what he saw. If he saw himself as a Quidditch player, or being the owner of Hagrid's dog, Fluffy, or even anything else that was so unlike him, then you would know. The mirror was lying, it had made a mistake, and you had nothing to worry about. He stepped forward, and his eyes instantly filled with dread. 

"What do you see, Severus?" You were unsure, your voice small. 

He avoided your question. "When I was younger, as a wizard who had not known any better, I saw myself married to Lily Evans. She would be holding my hand, alive, and I...would be the Minister of Magic,” He looked at you behind him, your expression unreadable, "And...we would be without children. That much I knew."

"But what do you see now?"

He took a long time to answer. Hesitating back and forth, he wondered if it was even worth it to tell you, considering how you felt about him. After Lily died, he dared not go back to the Mirror of Erised, in fear that he would break down all over again when he saw her face. Her death had been the worst thing to happen to him, forever changing the course of his life. The only one good thing he had, taken away from him. Then, he felt his will to live dissipate, nothing in life interested him anymore. Even a position as Minister of Magic did not appeal to him, so, he settled for being a teacher. Recalling the trauma that happened to him all those years ago, he winced as they appeared in his memories again. But right then, the fear of seeing Lily again, the fear of being taken back to that night, him holding her in his arms for the final time, did not happen. The scene he saw in the mirror, however, was different. 

He risked it all. "I see myself, with you. You...you are there beside me, one of your hands holding mine, the other," He paused to gauge your reaction, but you had withdrawn further into the shadows, and he could not see your face properly, "The other, you are carrying a boy. He looks no older than two, with dark hair and...your eyes."

"You are lying, Severus.” You had come out of the shadows, your eyes suddenly looking narrow, rigid, cold and hard. You were not making eye contact with him, and he was about to step forward when you stopped him. 

"Don't," you warned him. 

"The Mirror of Erised does not lie, (y/n)."

"But you do, you lie. Your reflection does not show that scene. Of you and me, and... _our son_.” You looked angrier then, and Severus could not accept the fact that you _did not believe him_. 

"Why would I lie about it? You know me better than anyone, you should know that I'm not lying!" he shouted, exasperated. _Was the prospect of having a future with me so disgusting to her, she had to accuse me of lying?_

"No, no...you saw Lily Evans in there, I know you did." So this was about _her_. Severus had mentioned her as what his past self would see, and he wondered from time to time if he was really over her, but when you showed up, you, with your way with words and your personality and the way you kept him entranced in all the ways Lily could not, that was when he knew. Lily was gone, and so were his feelings for her. It had not been easy to let go of the fact, but he did, and now it felt like all his progress had been for naught with you.

"I saw you, (y/n). In fact, I'm looking right at you in the mirror right now, you, with that gorgeous smile of yours, your kind eyes—"

"STOP!" You yelled at him, tears brimming your eyes. You felt bad, guilty, that all he saw was you, you and him together, with _a child_ at that, and you, the unconsciously selfish you, only saw yourself playing Quidditch with your old team again. You were not harbouring your anger towards him, but yourself. There he was, moved on from his past, seeing you as his deepest desire, but you, you were the one that had not moved on. You were stuck in the past, and you were horrified that you could not move on from it. He was in front of you then, wanting to comfort you, wipe away your tears, but he was confused. Why were you crying, rejecting him when he was baring his very soul to you?

"Is this about Lily? Because if it is, I'm telling you now that I've moved on, (y/n). I really have. I see myself with you now, you have to believe me." 

"No, no, Severus, it's not about her.” You turned away from him, wanting to get away as far as you could from him.

"Then what is it? What is your problem?!" He could not control his rage any longer, consuming his being. 

"My problem is, that I don't see myself with _you_." 

He stood back, his mouth opening and closing, but no words had come out. Tears were streaming down your face, and you felt horrible that you told him that, but _who else_ could you tell it to?

"That's why...I think you are lying. Because, the mirror is faulty," you continued, but he shook his head vehemently. 

"No, the mirror works just fine, (y/n). What you see, is what—"

"I know that! Do you think I don't know that? How am I supposed to stand here and accept that what I saw, was not you and me, but me _playing Quidditch again_? I saw myself with the Falcons again, Severus," you screamed at him, refusing to listen to his reasoning, "I saw myself, with Kenneth, with my teammates, everyone I knew back home around me, and I...I was holding the Quidditch World Cup trophy, not some _child_ you envisioned. I was not holding your hand, being married to you, having children with you, Sev, and that's what's killing me. That after all this time, I _still_ don't see myself with you."

The room was deathly silent then, the only sounds were of your laboured breathing and the occasional wind howling in the far distance. The silence was thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere, and Severus shifted uncomfortably between his feet. He was thinking, his face no doubt telling of a broken heart, but he was _thinking_. You felt painfully out of place, as if suddenly Hogwarts was not meant for you, that it was a mistake to even accept the job that Dumbledore offered you. You did not mean to even like the place, get to know Severus and Minerva and all your friends, or even having the students form close relationships with you, and you definitely did not mean to fall for a certain black-haired potions professor. Panting then, you turned to leave him when he finally spoke.

"Is that it? Is that why after all this time, our relationship is still _just friends_ to you? Because I don't know of many friends who kiss each other, sleep in each other's beds at night, do everything that _friends_ definitely do not do, have sex with each other, even."

"Severus, I—"

"Honestly, (y/n), I'm going to be forward here because..." He looked away, incredulously, as if something bad was going to happen, "...You'll probably be gone the moment your contract here expires, if not back to the Falcons, then probably to the Cannons or some other godforsaken Quidditch team you keep telling me about. And then I will never see you again. You, your presence would have only been a blimp in the grand scheme of things. But now, standing here in this moment, I know I can confidently say that I am..." He steeled himself, "...In love with you. And I know _friends_ definitely don't fall in love with each other. I love you, and I'm a coward when it comes to the matters of the heart. That is my fatal flaw. And maybe, just maybe, if I hadn't been so afraid of rejection, I could've showed you just how much love for you I had in store. You are the most difficult person to love, do you know that? But I still love you regardless. It kills me that you don't love me back, that what you see in the mirror is not of us, but I can accept that. I have never been the subject of anyone's love, I know that. But please, for the sake of you and I, you would...stop whatever you are doing to me, whatever games you are playing with my heart by holding my hand, hugging me, kissing me, making me fall even deeper for every move of yours, if,” He found the next words incredibly difficult to say out loud. "You. Are. Not. Going. To. Love. Me. Back. Because I cannot be in love with someone who is going to leave at the very first chance she gets to, no, my heart can handle no more. So you need to accept that I love you, or please...leave."

That was all of it. He finally said what had been like a monster pressing down on his chest for the longest time. Severus never expected that he would be confessing then, in the middle of the night in some abandoned classroom with the Mirror of Erised as an audience, with him in his sleepwear, but he had done it. He finally threw the ball into your court, hoping you would have at least a shred of sympathy for him to leave, and not toy with his heart any further. His heart, which had always been rough around the edges, that was torn in half when his Lily died, that he took _years_ to repair, that filled and swelled with you at first, only to be trampled and destroyed again with you after. It was not fair, how much he loved you, even after all that you had done to him. 

Still with your back turned to him, Severus could not see your expression, but you stood there stiff, rigid. Your hands were initially behind your back, as you always did when you wanted to make a quick departure that was swift and quiet, but you had moved them, your right hand now outstretched into the ceiling, and you tilted your head towards it, silent. He swallowed, preparing himself to see you leave, packing the items you had from his room back to yours, and never speaking to him again until you finally left Hogwarts. He even had a plan on what he would do if the both of you were stuck together in some situation somehow, without letting anybody else know that you were not speaking, he had a plan to handle it. It was sudden, he knew, but he needed a plan for anything that could happen now, and for the rest of the term, if things were to end like this. 

Severus' mind was running at hundreds of kilometres per hour, his thoughts so loud he could not hear anything else. But as if the world cleared around him, everything stopped when you turned to him, tears still streaming down your face, and you smiled. 

"I love you too, Severus."


	18. The Things Children Know

14th January 1992

You moved towards him then, and he could see the emotions storming behind your eyes under the moonlight shining through. 

"Do you want to know why I hated the reflection I saw in the mirror so much? Why I longed for it to be something else?" You asked, and he softly shook his head, prompting you to go on. 

"I wanted it to be _you_ , Severus. I wanted it to be us that I would see, I wanted a reason to stay. The reason I..." He lifted his face, expectant, and you sighed, "...I was so _angry_ at what I saw, was because I realised, that I had fallen so deeply, for you, Severus. I was afraid, of what I had realised, that I took it out on you. I have always given you only a small amount of my love while you...you gave me all you had, and you had to learn to consume my love in incredibly tiny, tiny portions so it would last. And it was incredibly selfish of me to do so. You deserve better, so much better, than me, and you should know that. If I knew any better, I would let you go. But I don't want to let you go, I'm scared that I would never meet someone like you again, someone who made me feel more me than I did," You moved to hold one of his hands in both of yours, his skin warm against your cold fingers. "I knew I loved you long before tonight, but I was afraid of admitting it to myself. In my own way, I...was my biggest obstacle. I'm a horrible person, but I never wanted to toy with you. When I..." Swallowing the lump your throat, you continued. "...I kissed you that night in the staffroom, I was already in so deep, but I had to confirm, that all I wanted was you. And so I acted as if all I did to you, kissing you, doing everything friends don't do with you, was normal. It was most certainly not, but you have no idea how scared I was to love you. You were everything I yearned for, you, one of the most powerful wizards I have ever known, you were everything and I was nothing. I felt that it was not right for me to have you, and I still do. But...I will do my best to love you with all that I am. I will work harder and be a better person for you to love, because hurting you is the worst thing that could happen to me, and I never want to hurt you again." 

Severus could not believe what he was hearing. _You loved him too_. That, in itself was causing his head to spin, but to hear you talk about yourself in such a self-deprecating manner when you thought about him, he did not know how to feel. He was never good with feelings, with words, so he did what he would always do to show you he loved you, hoping you could see through his action. Pressing his lips to yours, he never understood why kissing was such a big deal, until you. When he kissed you, he never wanted the butterflies in his stomach and the flutter in his heart to ever stop. The sparks that would rack his entire body, it felt like a surreal experience. However, there was a difference this time. He realised, with his hands around your waist, and yours cradling his face, that this kiss conveyed the words that could no longer accurately express his feelings for you, that all the words unsaid, all the words he still longed to say but did not know how, were carried into this kiss. And he was so thankful that you understood. If he could, Severus would kiss you until his lungs gave out.

"Be mine, whatever it takes, be mine. I don't care about anyone else, all I want is you."

"Of course. Nobody else, only you."

31st January 1992

"You need to referee the next Quidditch match, between the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs," you said to Severus one day, while on his bed, which had practically became yours as well, with how much time you spent in his quarters. You were halfway through a mug of tea he made you, in his oldest sweater he owned that you managed to find while digging through his clothes for you to wear. It was a few sizes too big for you, your fingers barely reaching out of the confines of the sleeve, which made you look _tiny_ in it. Severus watched as you held the mug in your left hand, a book with it's pages dog-eared and yellowed on your right. He cooed at how adorable you looked, secretly taking a photograph of you in his memory. The scene in front of him was something he wanted to remember forever. 

"Severus?" You had looked up when he did not reply, still busy gazing lovingly at you. You put the mug down, before clapping your hands over the sweater, muffling the sound so it would not shock him too much. 

"What?" He had snapped out of his daydream, and you laughed at how you had caught him staring at you again. 

"You were staring, Severus."

"I was. You looked so small, so precious, in that sweater," he replied, and you could feel your face grow hot at his compliment. 

"As I was saying, before you were too busy ogling me in your old sweater, Sev, you need to referee the next Quidditch match. Who knows what other tricks Quirrell is going to try to pull off on Harry next, and the only wizard he would not try anything with would be you. So with you as referee, you could see everything, and Quirrell would not cause any trouble.” You stood, wrapping your arms around his neck. He gave a disapproving grunt, and you knew he did not want to. Quidditch was never his cup of tea, and the thought of having to _referee_ a game of it would be absolutely torturous. 

Pouting, you forced him to look at you. "Please? If not for Potter, do it for me then."

"Fine, but you owe me.” You knew he could not resist the puppy eyes. Smiling triumphantly, you kissed him and told him you would do anything he wanted, and he grinned as he moved to carry you onto his bed.

3rd February 1992

The air was a little warmer than usual, and the snow had stopped, which allowed the pitch it's natural lush green colour instead of being covered with the usual thick white blanket of snow. It was the perfect weather for Quidditch, you thought as you made your way to your seat in the audience. Settling yourself next to Quirrell, he seemed even more twitchy than ever before, obviously uncomfortable that not only were you beside him, but Severus was refereeing as well. It was double the trouble for him, you knew. 

"Are you feeling alright, Professor Quirrell?" You turned to him, but he could only give you a glare, as if he knew the implications of you beside him already. You sat back, obviously not expecting a reply, and smirked. Dumbledore had even come to watch, with Severus reporting to him the suspicions the both of you had on Quirrell. He was seated a few seats behind, but you could feel his eyes between Quirrell and the match, never letting his guard down. 

The game started, with Hufflepuff earning the privilege of scoring the first points. You settled into your seat then, trying to enjoy the rest of the match.

Quirrell had started shaking his legs, as if he wanted to do something _badly_ , but every time he looked over and saw that you were still beside, he could only grit his teeth and hold back. Watching as Harry took a spectacular dive, nearly missing Severus on his own broom, you cheered. He had obviously spotted the Snitch, and was giving it his all to try to catch it. You checked your watch, it was awfully quick that he had done so, even beating the record times for some of the professional Seekers in the real world, which was impressive. In your time distracted, however, the stand had erupted in applause, and the next moment, all you could see was Harry with the Snitch in his hands. _He caught it, Merlin, he caught it!_ That boy was truly talented for his age.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for you below the stands, and you raised your eyebrows when they stopped you from walking any further. 

"Why are the two of you not celebrating? Gryffindor's won!" Ron had a heavy nosebleed upon a closer look, and you wondered what had really happened in the span of five minutes of the Quidditch game. You carefully tilted his face, trying to see the damage, before casting a charm to quickly heal it and alleviate his pain. He sighed in relief, thanking you. 

"It's Malfoy, the Slytherin, Professor (l/n)," Hermione said with her arms crossed, her face clearly infuriated with the blonde boy who just happened to pass the three of you. 

"Malfoy did this?" You looked at her, and she nodded. "Did you do anything to provoke him, Ron? I'm sure he wouldn't have done it without reason."

Ron looked away, before he remembered something and retorted. "He did! He insulted Harry, Neville and I! He said the Gryffindor Quidditch players were chosen based on who they felt sorry for, too."

"You know that's not true, Ron. Don't let his words get to you. "

"Easy for you to say, Professor (l/n). Draco would never insult you, not with Professor Snape protecting you like a knight everywhere," Ron huffed, and you paused at what you heard.

"Professor Snape does no such thing, you children are imagining things," you scoffed, but Hermione shook her head in agreement to what the Weasley boy said. 

"It's true. We didn’t want to tell you this, but Professor Snape treats us Gryffindors...differently, Professor (l/n). He bewitched Harry's broom the other day, because he wanted Slytherin to win!"

"He did no such thing! Professor Snape wouldn't do that, no matter how much he—"

"We saw his wand move and his eyes fixed on Harry the whole time! That must mean—” Hermione was going to continue when you raised her hand, telling her to stop. The children did not need to know about Quirrell, but Severus should not take the fall for him. 

"Enough, I don't want to hear the rest of this. Now go, celebrate with Harry, and don't worry about this anymore."

You left, hoping dearly that they would drop the subject and worry about things other young witches and wizards did, like classes or crushes or whatever it was that concerned children their age.

4th February 1992

Packing up the last of your items, you were prepared to leave the Defence the Dark Arts classroom, finally done for the day. Humming at the thought of Severus agreeing to spend the night at your room for a change tonight, your thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open creakily. It was Ron and Hermione again, but this time, Harry was behind them, almost acting as a lookout. When they were sure there was no one else in the room or coming from the hallways, they shut the door to your classroom and hurriedly walked over to you. 

"What is it with you three and—”

"We saw Professor Snape talking to Professor Quirrell last night, in the forbidden forest," Harry cut you before you could even finish your sentence. Taken aback, you focused on his expression, trying to see if he was lying, or accusing Severus of more things he did not do.

"And you're telling _me_ because...?" You quizzed, and Hermione stepped forward.

"Harry followed Professor Snape into the forest, and he heard Professor Snape convincing Professor Quirrell to get him the Philosopher's Stone! He asked if Professor Quirrell knew how to get past Fluffy, and something about enchantments—"

"You're threading on very thin ice, Hermione Granger," you warned, and she gulped, suddenly backing away, as if she said something she should not have. "Accusing Professor Snape of...whatever it is you are accusing him of, could lead to very serious implications." 

They realised it was the first time they had seen you crossed, and Harry and Ron too, were uneasy. You did not know how the three of them even got to know of the stone, let alone Severus confronting Quirrell himself (which he had not bothered to mention to you, by the way). Sometimes, knowing more did not mean they would be safer, often, knowing more would mean they were putting themselves in more danger, and you would hate to see the three of them endangering their own lives for the sake of the stone. 

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Now, get out of my classroom before I take away another twenty," you scolded, and with fear and disappointment in their eyes, they left. "And no more snooping around! The three of you are _students_ , not detectives!"

Sighing, you now knew that aside from the extra work you had to put in in monitoring them, you also had to confront Severus on why he thought it would be a very good idea to confront Quirrell alone, in the forbidden forest, without you.


	19. My Valentine

4th February 1992

Severus was marking fifth year essays when you entered your quarters, his eyebrows scrunched cutely and his frown appearing every time he drew a big red cross on a paper. 

"You've really made yourself comfortable, huh?" You leaned against the doorframe, and he blinked in surprise when he saw you. 

"You were late. I waited for five minutes before I decided to let myself in."

"Five minutes is the longest you can hold out?" You smirked, and he paused.

"Oh you know I can last way longer than that. Shall we test it out?" He moved towards you, his arm already reaching out but you laughed, placing your hand on his chest to stop him. You sit him down by the armchair, and crossing your arms, you tried hard not to give in to what he wanted. 

"Actually, I have something serious I need to talk to you about."

He raised his eyes towards you. "What is it?"

"You went to talk to Quirrell. About the stone. Without me."

"I—Who told you that?" 

"Potter may have—"

"Potter and that despicable mouth of his!" Severus was trying to move past you to the door, no doubt going to the Gryffindor common room to chew Harry out, but you blocked his path with your body. You forced him to focus on you instead.

"Severus, why did you go to Quirrell _alone_? You could have gotten hurt."

"It was nothing. He had caught on to us, no surprise, but I think he hasn't figured out anything else about the stone. I threatened him, though, you would think I was very scary," he tried to joke, and you unwillingly cracked a smile. 

"Are you sure it was nothing?" You scanned through his figure quickly, trying to see if he had sustained any injuries he failed to mention to you about. When there were none, you looked back at him, his eyes comforting. 

"I swear, (y/n), it was only a brief conversation. I would never lie to you."

You scowled, threatening him if he ever did anything to Quirrell without consulting you again that you would beat him up, and he only smiled softly at you. _She's worried about you, Severus. Be thankful you have the privilege of someone worrying about you._ Leaning in to kiss the scowl off your face, Severus invited you then to mark with him, which had become a comfort activity for both of you. The silence, the ambiance, was comforting when words did not need to be said. Pretending to still be slightly mad at the man, you playfully shoved him away before grabbing your pile of papers and sitting next to him. 

10th February 1992

Valentine's Day was coming, that much Severus knew. In fact, he had only heard of it when some of the sixth years were discussing it in his potions class, instead of focusing on the insides of their cauldrons. He had swatted the head of a Gryffindor boy, for openly declaring what he had planned to do to his lover on the day, much to the class' amusement. 

But now, Severus had a bigger thing to worry about. _How does one celebrate Valentine's Day?_ Especially someone like him, who frankly, has never been a big enthusiast of events like _Valentine's Day_. Were you a big fan of Valentine's Day? Or were you like him, treating it as a sorry excuse for couples to flaunt off their relationship to the rest of the school while the singles desperately scrambled to find themselves a date? _No, you were definitely not the latter_. He was at ends, frantically trying to figure out something for you with four days left to the date. Considering how he embarrassed himself last Christmas with him not getting you anything, he was determined to at least do _something_ for you this time. 

He had to swallow his pride, he knew he did. If he was going to make the day special for you, he could not only rely on himself, because for the life of him he could not figure out what to do. Writing down his options, he was left with Lucius Malfoy, Minerva, or asking some seventh year and swearing them to secrecy after. He figured he could not risk it with a student, and Minerva would never let him hear the end of how she helped the both of you get together, so he was left with his old Death Eater friend. Lucius was married, and he had a child at that, so he must know something, right?

Alas Severus was very, very wrong. Because at the end of the day, all he had from Lucius was the man not believing one bit that Severus, Severus Snape, had gotten a woman, and when repeatedly asked what he was supposed to do, Lucius only replied for him to take you to bed and tire you out until you forgot what day it even was. _Useless, absolutely useless!_

That left Minerva. The biggest problem to Severus then, was, telling Minerva that the two of you were _together_. After he overcomes that hurdle, everything else would be significantly easier. He curses himself, the things he would do to make you happy. 

Knocking on Minerva's office one night, he gulped when she allowed him to enter. Minerva was on her desk, sipping a cup of tea while making lesson plans for the following week. Suddenly Severus could not find the right words to ask his friend. Yes, they were friends, but him and Minerva never talked about the kind of things he was going to ask her. The only person he talked about his feelings to, were you. And you were the very person he was planning it for, so he had practically no one. _Swallow your pride, Severus. For her_. 

"What can I help you with, Severus?" Minerva was cheery. 

"Do you...know anything about Valentine's Day?" He spat, and her eyes raised curiously. 

"Why, yes. Professor (l/n) and I were planning on something for the students. She suggested allowing the students to send Valentine's cards to each other, I suggested a little bit of gift-giving itself wouldn't hurt." So it was true, you did like celebrations like Valentine's Day. It did nothing to aid Severus' situation, though. 

"Has she spoken to you about anything else? Regarding...the celebration?"

"Why, no, she only said it was a cute event to celebrate, and I agreed, because..." Minerva's voice faltered, and Severus tore his eyes away from the ground, thinking, and made eye contact with her. Minerva's eyes were filled with realisation, and Severus groaned. 

"Y-you a-and her! You and Professor (l/n) are together!" Her voice turned a few octaves higher, she was clearly the opposite of him, ecstatic at what she just found out. Severus could only nod, now covering his red face with his hands. At least the worst was over, he thought. But he was deeply wrong, again. 

"Oh, I have to tell Dumbledore—"

"You will do no such thing!" Severus' voice boomed as he blocked her path. 

Minerva stepped back, still beaming regardless. "Severus, this is a good thing. Why are you shy about it? I wished I had someone to care about me the way you care about her. Look at you, you're asking me on what to do for her. If I had known you any better, I would know that this is incredibly _embarrassing_ for you that you had to come to me for help. But you're doing it for _her_ , and that's amazingly kind of you.”

He removed his hands from his face, looking at her now. She invited him to sit with her, and he reluctantly did so, preparing for the longest night of his life. 

"Okay, so how long have you two been...together?" Minerva asked excitedly, and Severus glared at her. 

"Is that relevant for how you are going to help me prepare a gift for her?"

She slapped his arm. "Of course it is! I have to plan well, and my plans depend on how far along the both of you are."

"You seem more interested in the relationship than the planning so far though," Severus bit back, and it was her turn to glare at him. 

"In that case..." She turned to leave, and Severus panicked. 

"No! You...you were my last resort. Please, help me plan something for her, I don't know who else I can turn to. Don’t leave, I need this day to be good," he pleaded, and Minerva smirked at his desperation. 

"You really love her, don't you?"

13th February 1992

It was disgusting, how much everyone cared about Valentine's Day. Severus had confiscated fourteen Valentine's Cards by the time he was finished with his third class of the day, all filled with cheesy pick-up lines and mediocre attempts at wooing the desired party. 

"What could a measly slip of paper even do? And writing their love letters in _my_ class? Students are a different breed I will never understand," Severus ranted to you at lunch, and you chuckled at his ramblings. 

"Just because you are attached now, Sev, doesn't mean you can heckle others' still trying to get with the one they like," you cooed, almost wanting to brush the hair out of his eyes, but stopping yourself when you noticed Minerva's eyes on the both of you. In fact, she had been observing you a lot these past few days, taking every opportunity to talk to you about what you were planning to do on Valentine's Day, following you to your classes, and even choosing to sit nearer to you and Severus at meal times. 

"Sev, don't be freaked out, but I think you have some competition," you whispered, locking eyes with Minerva, who only grinned at you in response. He turned to you, obviously puzzled. 

"Minerva's been eyeing me like a piece of meat, I think she's going to be the next one to send me a Valentine's card." You had received a mountain of cards from students, most of them anonymous, of course, but some of the bolder seventh years had signed off on them, hoping they at least had a chance with you. Most of them were funny and endearing, and you had spent the past week sifting through them with Severus in your room, with him a little green whenever you paused a little too long for his liking to read the cards sincerely. You reassured him often by kissing his cheek that he was the only one for you, of course.

Severus sent a glare towards Minerva, and her lips pursed, as if to challenge him.

"Don't mind her, love."

14th February 1992

You woke up to an empty bed, which was unusual, considering you had fallen asleep next to a certain potions professor the night before. Reaching out to ensure he had simply not rolled further away from you, you frowned when you realised he really was _not there_. Groaning, you already missed his warmth as you pulled the quilt on his bed up to your cheek, grumbling at how he had left the bed colder when he left. It was barely half past three, what was he doing up and about? Rolling back to your side, you decided to sleep a little longer until it was time to get up and scold him for leaving so early. 

You were woken by his lips on your forehead, whispering sweet nothings to ensure you weren't too angry with him. 

"Mm, I'm tired, Severus. Give me a few more minutes."

"No, you're not. We're getting up now, we have a sunrise to catch.” He settled beside you then, and you could feel the bed dip slightly. Reaching over to wrap your arms around his torso, he softly stroked your hair as you did. 

"I am. You're going to have to carry me if we're going that far, and I know you don't—” you joked, but before you could finish, his arms were already under your body and you were hoisted up towards his chest. Gasping in surprise, you hit him playfully as he carried you bridal style over to your door. 

"Severus! I was joking!" But he did not listen. You tried to tell him to put you down, but the man simply unlocked the door, and began walking over to the Slytherin towers. "Sev, what if someone sees? What if _your Slytherins_ see?"

"Let them. I'm the Head of House, and if they dare try to pull something of any sort, I will see to it that Slytherin gets a hundred and fifty points taken away from them," Severus replied, still not putting you down. 

"Oh you would hate that, you wouldn't do it."

"Watch me." 

He only set you down when the both of you reached the top, and nearly slipping as you made your way with him to your usual spot, you felt your heart swell when you saw what he had set up. Severus had _planned a date_. There was a mat laid down with soft candles that smelled strangely like flowers, and he had placed a blanket and your favourite pillows on it. Apparently he had tried to make the pancakes that you loved so dearly as well, placed right beside the mat. Settling down beside you, you could not resist reaching for his lips as you thanked him over and over again for what he had done. 

"You remembered what day it was," you said as he reached over to unpack the pancakes he had tried to make. They were heart-shaped, or what he tried to shape it as, but the hearts were a little wonky and fat but cute nonetheless. You laughed as you watched him try to explain why they were shaped like that. 

"It's not—I tried to make them a little thinner, but the batter expanded and—I know I could've used magic to make them look better but I was rather late and—” He was furrowing his brows cutely, but you kissed his cheek instead, assuring him they were perfectly fine the way they were. He snorted at your remark, but still proceeded to place some on your plate nonetheless. The both of you talked for a little while, mostly about the students and the upcoming exams that you were going to set, avoiding the subject of Quirrell altogether. Severus mentioned he did not want a _twitchy, suspicious_ wizard to be a subject of your conversation today, and you laughed as you scolded him for insulting the man. 

The sun finally rose, spreading hues of magenta and orange to the whole of the seemingly asleep castle. Under the sunshine, Severus observed that your cheeks glowed more rosy than usual, your hair turning a lighter shade than they usually were, and the golden rays that had settled on your face was illuminating your beauty. Seeing you like that, felt like a breath of fresh air for him, after all that he has been through. Sometimes, he thinks it is amazing that even just _looking_ at you gave him comfort and the strength to continue his toughest days. You were his home, and he knew then that his home was not four walls, but two eyes and a heartbeat. 

"I love you," he whispered, and you turned your face away from the sky to him. 

"I love you too, Severus." He was grabbing something from the pocket of his robe, and your eyes travelled curiously to the rectangular shaped box he had pulled out. Carefully removing the top, you saw that it was a _necklace_. He motioned for you to turn around, and he lovingly clasped the hook of it behind your neck. It was a locket, and inside was a photograph of the both of you he had taken one night when you were asleep and he was reading a book, the figure of him waving softly, comfortingly, at you. Your heart practically melted at what you saw. 

"Sev, I...I don't know what to say, it..." Your words trailed off as you saw his eyes, and you were taken aback to Christmas night. It was _that look_. He was in love with you then, just as he was in love with you now. "It's gorgeous, Severus."

The two of you skipped breakfast, with the pancakes Severus had made already settling nicely in your stomachs. Instead, you pulled him to your room, and made him sit as you took out your own gift that you had prepared for him. It was a golden quill, with the feather the green of the Slytherin colour, and a small engraving to the side. _Be kind, Severus,_ it said, and he chuckled as he read it. 

"If I am ever not there to remind you of that when you are marking the students' works, let the quill be your reminder," you told him, and he shook his head in disbelief, still smiling at what you decided to engrave on it. 

When you entered your first class of the day with the sixth years, they were chatting rambunctiously, as if discussing a hot scandal they had just found out. Raising your eyebrows when they did not even notice you had entered the classroom, you wondered if there was something you had missed. 

"What's going on?" You raised the question, and upon spotting you in the front of the classroom, a dead silence suddenly settled. You checked your appearance, there was nothing peculiar, and you swore you had done nothing to warrant for their behaviour...so, why the looks? You wanted to press further, but decided not to. Heading to the front of the board, you still felt a little weirded out that the normally well-behaved Ravenclaws and Slytherins of the class were acting in that manner.

As they were leaving, Thalia, the Ravenclaw Chaser, felt bad and walked over to your table. 

"They were talking about how you and Professor Snape were the only ones who weren't at breakfast today, saying you two were...you know." She shrugged, and your cheeks immediately went red. 

"O-Oh. No, we weren't—we aren't, no! I overslept, and he—" You tried to explain, but she had put her hand over yours and smiled. 

"It's okay, Professor (l/n), your secret's safe with me," she winked. 

"Thalia!" But just like before, she had run off before you could elaborate further. 

The situation was made worse with the first years. Quirrell had suddenly taken a sick day, so the Slytherins and Ravenclaws joined your lesson, too. That was not the problem. The problem was the small bouquet of roses on your table, which was currently the topic of discussion in the classroom. Upon entering, you groaned as you quickly kept it, before seeing the small note that had slipped out. 

_To help you get through the day. I know how difficult first years are.  
Love, SS._

Severus knew of the merged class, and you smiled softly when you read the note, suddenly the dread in your body leaving you. He cared, and that was all that mattered. 

"Who's your boyfriend, Professor (l/n)?" Draco Malfoy had shouted over the noise, and your head cleared as you looked up at the students again. 

"Is it Professor Snape?" Another Slytherin added on, and you shook your head incredulously. You were sure Severus did not want your relationship revealed to them in this way, much less let it get revealed at all, so you avoided the question. 

"Would you rather learn about my very boring love life, or werewolves today, first years?"

There was a disquiet. The class roared in excitement, the students talking over each other until you had to knock your knuckles against the table a few times to quiet them down. And suddenly there was an agreement. "Your love life!"


	20. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up, five more chapters to go. 
> 
> although if u guys want, idm continuing through to the other books i guess, but would it be too long idk 
> 
> do u guys want to hang around me that long even

14th February 1992

 _Children._ Most of the time, they were endearing. With their cute faces and puppy dog eyes that they always showed whenever they knew they did something wrong, to their pure innocence when handling even the hardest of things, it was why many people liked them, you guessed. But right then, confronted with the first years incessant inquiring about your love life, you never felt like you hated children more. Always meddling, their undying curiosity, annoying. You had tried to avoid the question on you and Severus so many times in the span of the period, that by the time any of them raised their hands, you were ready to shoot back the question if it were pertaining to your love life. 

At the end of the class, most of them had already confirmed by themselves that you and Severus were together anyway, so what was the point? _I didn't know Professor Snape had a heart. Professor Snape's incredibly lucky, I'll tell you that! Professor Snape with her? They're polar opposites!_ Those were just some of the comments you heard.

Severus watched you march into the Great Hall for dinner, your expression clearly vexed. Letting out an amused grin, he could only guess that your day had not been easy. Observing his surroundings, he marvelled at what you and Minerva had planned. The hall was decorated in shades of pink and red, with what Severus could presume little Cupid angels hanging beautifully off the ceiling. The feast was even themed for the occasion, and the students themselves were impressed when they entered. The mastermind behind it, however, was currently seething beside him. 

"Tough day?" He asked, waiting for the food. 

"Oh my day was perfect, up until I entered my first class."

"Humour. You're incredibly funny." Severus did not laugh, but was still amused at your sarcasm. 

"Apparently, we've become the only couple the school's interested in," you retorted. 

"So I've heard. Although, they did not dare bring it up to me, though. So _you_ had to take the brunt of the questions, love. Perks of being the nicer teacher,” He laughed this time, and you glared at him. _Of course the students would not disturb him, they were deathly afraid of him!_ You seriously considered if you should change your teaching styles then, possibly making yourself as aggressive at teaching as you were at playing Quidditch. 

In an attempt to lift your spirits, Severus had opted to stay the night at yours. You had prepared one last surprise for him, but with the way he was teasing you by narrowly escaping your lips whenever you pulled him in, and holding your hips still while you tried to grind on his lap, you were considering if it was worth the effort at all. 

"Severus..." You could not believe you were begging. You never begged. 

"You look incredibly hot when you're angry, do you know that?" He had his hands in your hair, and you growled unhappily. 

"Technically, you were the cause for my anger. You with your flowers...made the first years waste precious teaching time. All they were interested in was _who_ I was dating. "

"Did you tell them?"

"They're eleven year olds. They don't need to be in anybody else's business other than their own." Severus was unrelenting in allowing you to move your hips, and you, frustrated, decided that if he was going to play this game, you were going to win it. Pulling your lips off of his, you slowly slid to the floor, settling yourself between his knees. He heaved heavily as he saw the position you were in. You leaned your head against his thigh, and he threaded his hands into your hair. 

"Severus, you've chosen to play an awfully dangerous game, do you know that?" Your voice had gone deeper and raspier, he noticed, and he involuntarily bucked his hips. Grinning at his reaction, you ghosted your hand over his crotch area, not allowing him the satisfaction. "I had a second surprise, for you tonight, Sev. But you, you are acting as if you don't even want it."

"And..." He had to control himself, "What would that surprise be?"

Smirking, you took one of his hands and placed it up underneath your robes, and he groaned. The tent in his pants was evident, and his eyes were hooded with lust. His hands had touched the soft lace of the lingerie you wore, and he instantly regretted teasing you, knowing that you were going to get your revenge on him. 

"I advise, Severus, that you let me win. You wouldn't want to miss out on this, would you?" 

You were lifted roughly off the floor before you could even stop to grin at him again.

18th April 1992

You hated exams as a student. After all, which student would not? Sleepless nights spent in the library, burning so much midnight oil you thought you were going to faint in the examination rooms, and not to mention the many, many pots of tea that you went through. Now, as a teacher, you realised it was no different. Setting the exams, going through them again and again by yourself (Quirrell was of no help, no surprise there) to ensure there were no mistakes in the questions, and churning out answer keys, all of it was incredibly exhausting. Not to mention you had to actually _prepare_ the students for the exams themselves, which meant another chore of having to mark mountains of homework to ensure that they had done their proper revision. 

What was worse, Quidditch season was in full swing, and Kenneth was apparently not in the highest spirits. It had gotten so bad that, one of your former teammates had reached out to you via a letter one day and practically begged you to talk to Kenneth. You explained to her that it was hard to do so, what with everything that had happened, but she was desperate, and you knew the Falmouth Falcons were not doing too well in the league either. You did not mean to bash their new Seeker, but even Kenneth himself said, in a letter that you had yet to respond, that he only had a fraction of your abilities. All of that, piled up, would take a toll on anyone.

You could not even work on the desk in your room anymore. The letters had piled up to form a mountain, a rather large one, and you could not even keep track when each one came in. Disgusted at the sight, you checked the time. You had half an hour until the Ravenclaws' training. Huffing, you grabbed the first letter you saw, and ripped it open. 

Kenneth was upset. Safe to say, he was not dealing with your rejection well. Skimming through the letters rather quickly, you realised that you really had missed out a lot. _Merlin, he held up his end of the promise. I didn't,_ your jaw dropped when you realised. The envelopes in front of you now seemingly glaring at you. One in particular, stood out. It was thinner than all the others, so you figured it would be a quick read before you had to head out. 

_Dear (y/n),_

_I don't even know if you're even receiving my letters anymore. My owl assures that you are, but I wouldn't know. I'm tired of trying, (y/n). Quidditch has been incredibly difficult without you around, you should know, if you've been reading my letters that is. Anyway, I shall keep this brief. I will be heading to Hogsmeade on the twentieth of April as part of our break week. I hope I will see you there so we can talk things out properly, but my hopes are not high._

_Kenneth Broadmoor_

You had to go. You had to, right? You had to settle whatever rift, whatever words could not be said between you and Kenneth over letters, once and for all. And coming from a ex-professional player, break weeks were incredibly hard to come by in the span of your careers, so the fact that he hoped he could spend it with you when it was so precious to him, meant more than you could ever imagine. Even after all that you had done to him, he still wanted to see you. Even a person who could live with incredible guilt could not stand up a person like that. Yeah, you definitely had to go to Hogsmeade. 

19th April 1992

Minerva was across you on Severus' favourite armchair in your office. Dressed in a tartan bathrobe and hair net, you were surprised, to say the least, when she knocked on your door at one in the morning. Severus was in your room, and you panicked, telling him he had to apparate out, but he simply got up and opened the door for her. Your face immediately turned pale when he did so, but Minerva only stopped to looked him up and down, before moving towards your office. 

"She knows. She's the only one that knows, dear," Severus, still sleepy, rubbed his eyes. "And apparently, she needs you. _Ladies night_."

You had no chance to recover before Minerva was calling your name. Walking past Severus, he only shrugged, before kissing your forehead softly. 

"Minerva," you greeted as you made your way to your chair. She was studying you, looking absolutely pissed. You needed to thread lightly if you were going to make it out of your office alive. 

"Is that Severus' old Slytherin sweater?" You looked down to the dark green sweater you were wearing, and blushed. Recently, most of the old clothes that he refused to wear anymore had moved to your own wardrobe, and you loved falling asleep to the smell of him enveloping you. 

"I—uh..." You did not know what to say.

"Doesn't matter. I just had to take away a hundred and fifty points from _my own house_ , so nothing the both of you do can faze me anymore.” Her hand flew to her forehead, massaging her temples. You blinked in shock at what she just said. 

"What?"

"That's right. A hundred and fifty. Apparently Harry Potter and friends had thought it would be a good idea to walk around the school at this timing, tricking Draco Malfoy at it, too. Which reminds me—" She paused to get up, before yelling, "—Severus! Get in here! I need to speak to you about that Malfoy boy of yours!"

You knew Severus would not be happy being interrupted at this timing. Hearing a groan from your room, you shook your head, chuckling at how even Severus did not dare defy the Gryffindor Head of House. Shuffling into your quarters, your heart melted as you saw his dishevelled hair, dressed only in his sleeping shirt and shorts. He looked _grumpy_ , but reluctantly sat next to Minerva anyway.

Her mouth opened and she began to speak, but your eyes had drifted to the stack of envelopes on your desk again, and you were instantly reminded of what you had to do the next day. You had not informed Severus in case he would freak out, and frankly, you were confident that there was nothing to freak out about anyway. You were going to talk to Kenneth, let him down gently, and continue the friendship you both had before he tried confessing to you. Simple. Fuss-free. In fact, you did not even expect the meeting to last for over a few hours, knowing you had to be brief; you had a million other things to do. 

"(y/n)! Are you listening to me?" Minerva dragged you out of your thoughts. She knew you were not paying attention, but decided to let it go. Severus shot you a bored look, and you smiled encouragingly at him. _Just hold out a little longer, dear._

The Gryffindor Head of House only left your office at three in the morning, finally rid of her frustrations. You and Severus stood together by the doorframe to send her off, his arm already around your waist, ready to drag you back to bed. Just before she left, however, she turned to you. 

"You two look really good together, by the way. I've never seen Severus this happy in a while, (y/n). Take care of each other."

"We will," Severus replied.


	21. Where Your Loyalties Lie

20th April 1992

Severus watched you get ready. This was not how he had envisioned his weekend to go. He wanted to stay in, sleep the day away with you, doing nothing, but instead, you had told him only an hour before that you were going to meet an old friend of yours at Hogsmeade. Instead of one of his shirts, you were putting on what he claimed to be his favourite robes of yours (simply because the lighter white made you look like an angel), instead of tying your hair up in a messy bun like you always did, you were styling it to give it more of an elegant look, and instead of the morning kiss he loved receiving from you, you were kissing him goodbye, telling him you were running late. 

"And who is this friend...again?" You were brief in telling him who you were going to meet, and although he trusted you, he was still worried. 

"An old opponent who became my friend, _she's_ from America, Ilvermony. I won't be gone for long, Severus, don't worry," you replied, giving him a final kiss on the cheek before opening the door to your quarters. Considering how stressed Severus himself had been from having to set exam papers and take care of his own matters in the school, you knew he did not need to have any extra pressure by worrying about you and Kenneth. 

Kenneth was waiting for you by The Hog's Head when you arrived. He looked significantly more tan, albeit due to the amount of trainings he had done so under the sun (you always did remind him the importance of sunscreen, but he never listened), his eyes a little tired, but he was smiling. Walking over to him, he gave you a tight hug before taking a moment to look at you. 

"Wow...you look..." He trailed off, and you chuckled. 

"Worse? That's what not playing Quidditch for over a year does to a person." You began to step inside, the pub lively and welcoming. 

"No, you look more _beautiful_ than I last remembered," Kenneth corrected, and you stopped in your tracks. 

"Ken...I—”

"I was just complimenting you, it meant nothing.” He shrugged, grinning before walking past you to pull out your seat for you. Smacking his arm, you forgot how playful he really was. Even back then, he had always gone out of his way to tease you. Now, it was a little harder to take his jokes, but you needed to try to get past the awkward phase the both of you were having. 

He ordered a Butterbeer, and began asking you about life at Hogwarts while telling you about his back at the Falcons. It was small talk, but you knew he was afraid to bring up the bigger topic that had the both of you on your toes. At some points of your conversation, however, the occasional Quidditch fan would come up to the both of you, recognise the Falcons robe that he was wearing, and began asking for autographs. It was kind of bittersweet, remembering the fame that you used to helm only over a year ago, now nearly gone because of an injury. Watching Kenneth sign his autographs and taking his pictures gave you a sense of nostalgia that you could not fathom ever having before. 

"Did you see that? He wanted a—”

"Why did you ask me to come home?" You could not take it any longer, you needed to know. He was beating around the bush with what he wanted to say, and having to watch him sign another autograph while you only got reminded of your past glory physically hurt you. 

Kenneth's surprise registered on his face. The cogs in his brain were turning, and you watched as his facial expression turn grim. 

"I'm sure you know."

"You cannot be in love with me, you barely know me," you retorted, but he gripped his glass harder. 

"I trained alongside you for years, I would say I know you pretty well. Being away from you just solidified my claims, (y/n)." You could not believe you were hurting another person's feelings for them loving you. "I turn everyone else down because they aren't you, and my heart knows you are not the one for me, but it refuses to let anyone in other than you. Being away from you, it hurts me, and I only wished you would come back, even if you don't become mine."

"I can't come back and you know that. _You_ were the one who pushed me to go for Hogwarts, Kenneth."

"But Hogwarts is not your home, we are. The Falcons, (y/n). And I should have said it before, and I blame myself for not thinking of it sooner, but you can come back. You can _play_ again." You were suddenly taken back to the reflection you saw in the Mirror of Erised, and a horror grips you at what the wizard sitting in front of you just said. The memories the mirror brought back, gave your stomach a churn. 

"Kenneth, my injury—”

"You can play for our less demanding games, you know, to boost our rankings when we need to. I did the research, here," He took out a stack of papers, all regarding your injury, and you studied them while he talked, "Patients with your injury have a very good chance of recovery when exposed to this kind of charm, and along with the potions that they offer, you could play a full game with no problem whatsoever, taking into account your recovery period after each game."

It was as if he was speaking Parseltongue. You could not hear what he was talking about, your eyes flying over the words off the page, while your mind reeled of the reflection you saw. _What am I supposed to do now? I cannot leave Hogwarts, but this is what I wanted in the end, wasn't it?_ You hated yourself for seriously considering your options, the Mirror too weighing heavily at the back of your mind. Kenneth was testing where your loyalties lied, and you were struggling. 

Noticing you deep in thought, Kenneth stopped for a moment, and reached out for your hand on the table. That jarred you back to reality. _Severus, I cannot leave Severus_. Retracting your hand, you looked at him. "I need more time to think, Kenneth. This is all too much, and you know how much Hogwarts means to me now. I cannot just up and leave them the moment my contract expires."

He understood. Sighing, he told you that he would still be interested in seeing you the following week, but remembering that you were supposed to take the third years to Hogsmeade as a final encouragement before their exams, you told him that you would be busy, but that you would write him. Standing, he turned to you a final time. 

"Not loving me, I can accept, (y/n). But you would be a fool not to accept the job offer. I can get by with only being _your friend_ , but I can get by no longer without being your teammate. The team needs you, possibly more than Hogwarts. And this is a rare opportunity, you know that."

_Of course I know that._

You walked out of the pub in a huff, obviously frustrated with the dilemma your former captain had put you in. After the terse conversation, all you needed was to get back to your quarters and tried to think it over calmly. Initially only expecting to discuss your friendship with Kenneth, you did not expect him to drop a bomb on you, the prospect of your old life back being offered. He always had a knack for surprises, catching people off-guard, and apparently it not only applied to the confines of the Quidditch field. 

Cursing, you were walking back with your head somewhere else, not noticing your surroundings. So when you felt your body collide with someone else's, you nearly fell over in shock.

It was Quirrell. _Great_ , you thought. He, too, looked in a hurry, but he had a mischievous glint in his eyes. You reluctantly helped him up, but he only grinned at you back. 

"What?" His face was asking for a beating, but you had to hold back. 

"I-I saw you, inside, w-with that man. O-oh does Professor S-Snape know?" Now he was really asking for it. 

"No, he doesn't need to. And so do you, Professor Quirrell. What are you doing out here, anyway? Haven't I passed you the papers for you to look through?" You raised your eyebrows, and his eyes suddenly focused on everything else but your face.

"I-I'm busy, you know! T-things to do! But you, I've n-never seen you outside t-the castle before, m-must b-be a special friend, that one!"

You gripped his wrist tightly, and he yelped. "Listen, I trust that you and Professor Snape have...matters between the both of you. But if you want to _ever_ prove yourself useful, to me, your dear fellow Defence Against the Dark Arts colleague, you would not tell him anything about this. Do you understand? He is busy, and he does not need to worry himself sick about matters as trivial as this. "

He was wary, but years of gripping your broomstick tightly to ensure you did not fall off of it had prepared you for this moment. Twisting his hand now, he cried out, before nodding desperately until you let him go. 

You still did not trust that Quirrell would keep his mouth shut against Kenneth, and knowing that he had leverage over you, made you groan as you trudged back to the castle. Things could not have gone worse.

Dinner had commenced when you made your way into the Great Hall. Quirrell had made it back before you did, somehow, and was sitting next to Severus, who had a slightly annoyed look on his face. You made your way next to him, to the seat he always reserved for you. 

"You are late," Severus said as you held his hand briefly when you sat. 

"Yes, it turns out my friend was very chatty." You thought nothing of it, asking Flitwick to pass you a plate. 

"Oh, was he, P-Professor (l/n)?" Quirrell chimed in, and you gritted your teeth, already prepared for Severus' reply. 

"He?"

"She. She, Professor Quirrell. And you know that better than anyone, you were there with me." You smiled sweetly at the man beside Severus, as if to simply remind him of the right pronouns, but he had a look of fear in his eyes when you did so. Severus looked between the both of you, deciding who he would believe. But when your hand rested gently on top of his, he knew. Glaring at Quirrell then, Severus gave the man more reason to quiver in fear. 

It was late when the both of you returned to Severus' quarters for the night, and as he lay beside your sleeping figure on the bed, he could not help but doubt himself, flashbacks of the conversation at dinner recurring to him. Each time he breathed in reason that you were telling the truth, he would breathe back out the lie he knew you were telling. _Why did you not tell him you were meeting someone else? Was it Kenneth that you were meeting? Was that why you refused to tell him?_ He trusted you, of course he did. But if he seemed as if he was too overbearing _now_ , he was afraid that the slightest trigger would set you off. And things were good now, he knew, so the risk was too great. He wanted more time with you, more time like this, and if confronting you over a small issue like that would put it at risk, he would rather shove it to the back of his mind then. If you wanted to tell him you would. 

Studying your soft features and your slow breathing, he could not help but lean in and kissed you on the cheek, his heart absolutely melting at the sight. _You were happy, so he had to be too_.


	22. After A Tangent

26th April 1992 

"Diggory! Have you got your consent form signed? I haven't seen it!"

"Warrington, you need to—"

"Fred and George Weasley! Get back here!" 

You were exhausted. The third-years were proving to be very difficult, and it definitely did not help that none of them were listening to you when you were trying to get them together. Clutching the name list in your hands, you were about to do another round of yelling when Severus' hand laid on your shoulder comfortingly. 

"You are treating them like a mother, when they should be treated like rascals," Severus' seemed a little pissed as well, with the students refusing to heed your orders. "Whoever is not in front of Professor (l/n) in two lines in the next ten seconds, can forget about even making the trip down."

You were shocked at how fast his voice could command the students to drop all that they were doing, and line up in front of the both of you. _Guess being the most feared teacher has its perks, after all_. Sighing in relief, you began to take attendance while Severus stared menacingly at any student that stepped out of line. 

_He'd do anything for her,_ George's voice could be heard through the crowd, and you had to physically restrain Severus from attacking him. 

Once the professors ensured that the students could be trusted to their own devices, they made the trip to The Three Broomsticks to have a little down time of their own. Severus wanted to sneak away from them to spend a little time with you, but you had convinced him that not only would it be highly suspicious to the other professors, the chance of the students spotting the both of you alone without the others would carry other implications. He was unhappy with the decision, but complied to you anyways. 

"I'll take everyone's orders," you announced as the group settled into a parlour. Reminding yourself of Flitwick's special request and Minerva's allergy, you headed up to the bartender. 

"Awful pathetic, doesn't he look?" The owner was busy looking somewhere else outside when you arrived, talking to a wizard with a white beard and grey hair. 

"Sure is. To think the captain of the Falmouth Falcons would be standing there miserably like that, must be someone special he's waiting for, eh?" You froze. _Captain of the Falmouth Falcons_. Sure enough, you turned and there he was, the subject of their conversation. He was waiting outside the pub, a mug of butterbeer clutched in his hands, and although he did not see you inside, his keen eyes and curious expression gave away the fact that he was waiting for someone. 

"Um, Madam Rosmerta, c-could you help me bring the drinks over to that table over there please? I-I need to take care of something.” You pointed to the parlour, and she happily agreed. Her eyes narrowed as she passed by you, though, before a look of realisation claimed her. 

"Oh, you! The Falcons' Seeker, were you? Poor thing you are, with an injury like yours.” Her eyes were full of pity, and you smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say to her. Thanking her quickly, you left the pub to talk to Kenneth. 

"(y/n)! I thought you were busy this week?" Kenneth stared at you in awe as you appeared in front of him. 

"I was, I still am, actually. The third years are on their Hogsmeade trip this weekend, and we are in charge of them, so...” You had to make this quick, not wanting to risk Severus or any of the other professors seeing the both of you like this. 

"Well, that—that's good. Have you made your decision?" 

"I haven't. I don't know what to do Kenneth, this is obviously a very big choice for me to make, and I can't—”

"What's stopping you from leaving? You said it yourself, you did not particularly enjoy teaching children. Surely you could do without that? And your colleagues are nice, but none of them have made you feel the way we, your teammates did, have they?" He moved closer to you, and you wordlessly stepped back, but he reached out to hold your elbow, closing the distance. "Is there someone, (y/n)?"

Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, you wanted to tell him everything. Everything from how _happy_ you were at Hogwarts, how the students had proven to be more than just the children you teach, how the staff were more than nice, they were like your _family_ , and most importantly, you wanted to tell him about Severus. Severus, was the biggest factor in making you want to stay. Sure, you could still have a relationship with him outside of Hogwarts, but then you would be too busy from practice and trainings and you would see him so rarely that each fleeting moment the both of you had would be too short, leaving you only unsatisfied and longing for more. It was not a way to live, and although you trusted Severus would keep in contact, you were sure the relationship would never be the same. 

"No, no, it's not that, Ken. I...I'm happy with the way my life now is. And I finally found something I love other than Quidditch. Isn't that what you always wanted for me?"

"You were what I always wanted." His face looked sullen, and you wondered just how long he had been waiting, a thin glimmer of hope that you would come for him keeping him going. 

"Kenneth, you have to let me go. Please, for your sake and mine."

"I can't! Don't you see that I can't? I fought tooth and nail for your old position back, I wrote you all those letters, I waited patiently everyday for your reply, I worried myself sick waiting for you! And all you had to do was _come back_ , but you couldn't. And why? Because—" He stopped to cup your face, "—Because there is someone else? Is that the reason you cannot reciprocate the love you know I work so hard to give you? You know me better than anyone, (y/n), and you know that had it not been for you leaving for Hogwarts, you would have been mine," Kenneth bit back, his eyes full of emotion. 

Were you supposed to tell him about Severus? The both of you had agreed to keep your relationship a secret for now, save for Minerva, but not telling Kenneth altogether would be cause for more trouble. The truth was, you _had_ considered dating him for a while, but the thought went briefly in your head as it passed, never returning. Sure, he was handsome, you could give him that, and under his arrogant, brash behaviour, was a kind heart that any girl would be lucky to have. But he was _not Severus_ , and you could not see yourself with anyone else but Severus. You had to let him down gently, you knew. Moving your hands away from your sides to hold over his wrists, you tried to pull his hands from your own face, but to no avail. 

"Kenneth." 

That was when you noticed. A crowd had gathered around, and all of them were staring at the both of you. Some of them recognised the both of you, murmuring words like _Falcons, Captain, Seeker_ that you could distinctly hear, and you fought harder for Kenneth to release his hands. Scanning through the crowd, you ensured that none of the students were there, but what you saw next made your blood run cold. 

You made eye contact with Severus. He was looking at the both of you, his eyes transfixed on the placement of Kenneth's hand. It took a second or two for your shock to set in, before you forcefully pulled Kenneth's hands away, much to the chagrin of the crowd. They had hoped the two of you were together, some of them even mentioning, "Shame, they looked perfect together.” 

In the moment you looked away, however, he was gone. Cursing, you immediately left Kenneth's side to chase after him. The Falcons captain had tried to grip your wrist to hold you back, but you shook him off roughly, before yelling, "Yes, there is someone!"

Panting hard, you ran. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, your heart throbbing as the rainbow coloured shops now passed by in a flurry as you kept your eyes open for Severus. _No, no, this cannot be happening,_ you thought as you scanned through the crowd quickly for his signature black robes and jet-black hair. Normally, you would have found it endearing, how much he loved the colour, you telling him that it made him look like a handsome vampire, but right then, with the majority of your surroundings being of a darker colour, you suddenly hoped that his favourite colour would have been neon yellow. 

You rushed past every single shop, looking through each window like a maniac, shocking some of the students while at it, too. He was nowhere to be found. You considered shouting out his name, but you knew even he would not reply to you in that fashion. For a while, all you could hear was your own breathing and your heart pounding, the whole world being drowned out by your fear. _Severus did not have to see that, it was not what he thought it was. No, he needs to hear my explanation. He cannot leave like this!_

By the end of the trip, Severus was still nowhere to be found, and you had resigned to ask Minerva where he went. Unaware of what was going on, she simply told you that he had perhaps returned to the castle earlier, and you need not worry about it. Oh, but you did. You worried so much.

As soon as you reached Hogwarts and making sure all the children were accounted for, you begged Flitwick if he could take over your duties for the night for the Ravenclaws. He agreed, and although he looked a little worried about you, he said nothing. You were reminded how thankful you were for him once again as you made your way down to the dungeons, straight for Severus' quarters. 

You knocked on the door twice, hoping he would at least be civil and opened the door for you. No answer. You knew you had the keys to open the door, but you respected him enough not to do that. Knocking a third, fourth time, you decided to speak. 

"Severus, it's me, can you open the door please?" No answer. You knew he was inside, the fire crackling heard over the heavy wooden door of his room. 

"Severus, what you saw, it's not what it looks like, I promise. Can you open the door please, sweetheart, I'll explain everything to you."

"I know you're in there, Sev. Would you please just let me in?" There was movement inside, but it was not sounding anywhere near the door. You cursed him and his stubbornness sometimes. He was definitely not okay, and pushing you away was not going to help the situation. Did he think you would seriously let it end over this? Pacing around outside, you made a decision.

"Severus, I'm busting this door down if I have to. I'm counting to three, okay? One," You prepared to run towards the door, "Two," you were ready, and you were prepared to say the final count when you actually slammed your body through the door, but suddenly, the lock clicked open and Severus was there. Your body was already in motion, however, and not reacting fast enough, you were tumbling across the threshold, your arms outstretched to break your fall. But he caught you. His body broke your fall, holding you up against him. He was betrayed, hurt, and wanted nothing more to do with you, but something in his instinct had prompted him to catch you, ensure that you were alright, and he was disgusted with himself for it. Immediately letting go of you, he stared at you, his eyes stoic. 

He looked like he had been crying. His eyes were a little red and dry, and you sucked in a breath when you saw how _broken_ he looked. Moving to cup his face, you were unnerved by his penetrating eyes and when he roughly shoved your hands away, you could say you were taken aback. 

"Say what you need to say. Then get out." His words were sharp, tight. Steeling yourself, you gulped before you replied him. 

"Severus, what you saw back there, it wasn't what you thought. He was coming onto me, and I was pushing him away, I swear. But his grip was so tight and I was—”

"Are you sleeping with him on the side too? Is that why you could not bother _telling_ me that the person you met last weekend was him, and not some friend you made up of? Is that why I had to find out from _Quirrell_ of all people, that you were seeing someone else?" His eyes were colder, and you had to mentally remind yourself not to take a step back in fear. 

"W-what? No! Sev, I-I'm not sleeping with him! He was there to meet me for something else, but I...I did not want to worry you. You tend to...overreact when it comes to this kind of things."

"Caring about what you do is overreacting?! Wanting to know _who_ you were hanging out with is overreacting?!" You knew you had pushed the wrong buttons with that one. "Wanting to look out for you is overreacting?!" 

"No, but the last time you even heard of his name, you refused to talk to me for days! _That_ was why I didn't bother telling you. I didn't want you to push me away again," you reasoned. "Severus, can you not see that you are all I want? No one else."

He stepped back, retreating further into his room. You watched as he shuffled through his items, as if looking for something, and when he did, he held it up to your face. It was a letter from Kenneth, but it was more recent, and when you read the date it was written, you realised it was right after you met him the previous week. Attached to it, was the job contract he offered you. _Merlin, how long had Severus had that in possession? And didn't tell me?_

"You were going through my personal items." 

"I didn't have to. His owl flew in while you were away. Was _this_ what you were discussing? Leaving Hogwarts?" Severus knew he was in the wrong for opening and reading your letters, but it was not his fault that the job contract was _right there_. You were leaving, for Merlin's sake, how could he not be worried? You were leaving him without second thoughts, without reason, and he had to find out about it on his own. 

"You had no right to go through my personal items, Severus," you hissed, now suddenly feeling a taut coil of rage inside you. You could deal with his stubbornness, his unwillingness to listen to you, but him going through your things just to find dirt on you, felt like a whole other level of betrayal. 

"Just answer me, are you going to leave me or not? Are you leaving me for _him_?"

"It always comes back to this with you, doesn't it? No, Severus, I'm not leaving you for him. He needs to accept the fact that all he will ever be will be just a friend, and so do you."

"Hard to do so, with him all over you like that," Severus mumbled, as if only for himself to hear, but you heard him loud and clear.

"Severus!"

"Do you know how much it hurt? Seeing you in his arms? Seeing you _look at him_ the way you look at me? Don't deny, (y/n), I cannot hold a candle to him. He is everything you should have, he's handsome, he's successful, he's _wealthy_ , he's a Quidditch player, he's everything that fits your type, isn't he?" You raised your hands to his chest, to stop him from his self-deprecating manner, but he did not stop. "While me, what am I? I'm not even the slightest bit good-looking, I'm a _professor_ for Merlin's sake, I haven't got much, and all I have to give you is my love. And sometimes, I think even that is not enough for someone like you."

Tears were welling in your eyes at what he just vented. You knew he had some insecurities of his own, his past haunting him from the years of bullying he had dealt with, and some nights, even with you sleeping next to him, he still had his nightmares. You remembered yourself calmly holding him in those moments, whispering words of affirmation in his ear while he battled his demons. Often, you got up to make him tea as well, to coax him to fall asleep again, and you remembered to hold him just a little tighter so he knew you were there even if he was asleep. He was enough, he was more than enough. Could he not see that? He was everything you ever wanted, and then some. The way he would hold your hand on your toughest days until you felt better, the way he would listen to your ramblings about Quidditch even though you knew he did not enjoy the sport himself, the way he always made sure you had eaten, not wanting you to skip your meals if you were caught up in something, those were some of the things he always did that made you fall deeper and deeper for him. It was unfair, how good he was to you, and how nobody, including himself, could see how amazing of a partner he was. 

"You are enough, don't you know that? You are more than enough, you mean everything to me. I would—" He interrupted you before you could finish. The necklace he had given you suddenly felt heavy, as if it was choking you. _His heart is still with me, but I'm not even sure mine is with him_. 

"You know what? In all the time I was with you, I was always afraid it had to come to this. This, us, was a mistake. I should have known that the minute I fell in love with you. That's why falling in love with you felt so wrong, because we were not meant for each other. I-I think, I'm not meant for anyone. We're through, I don't want to do this anymore, I'm sorry.” His hands were on his neck, and he was facing away from you. But with the way his voice broke as he spat out the last words, you knew he was close to tears as well. Did he really just said what he did? That you were a _mistake_ to him? 

"Are you calling whatever we had a waste of time, Severus? Did it ever occur to you that _I_ loved you back? You cannot walk away like this, I love you," His shoulders had started to shake, he was crying. "And we'll get through this, I know we can. I'll be a better person for you, I'll stop whatever it is with Kenneth, I won't even talk to him, Merlin, Severus, I'll do anything you want me to. _Just please, don't let me go_." 

But it was over. Severus was all too familiar with the feeling of saying goodbye. He had done so with Lily, and he was doing it now to you. He wanted so badly to blame it on you, but he knew that it was his own insecurities, his own self-doubt that prohibited him from working things out with you. He was simply not good enough, that much he knew. 

"Please...get out," he pleaded, hoping you could not hear the whimper in his tone. _Stay, stay with me. Don't let me push you away._

"Severus, you cannot—"

"GET OUT!" he yelled then, and he saw you flinch. _I never meant to hurt you. Please, fight for us._ His voice echoed through the room, the melancholy amplifying his tone. Severus watched the expression in your face shift from one of desperation, to despair. Your hands had dropped to your sides, your body language indicating that you were upset. You were crying then, and he hated the way his heart clenched painfully at the sight. Even crying, you were still the most beautiful to him. He hated to be the reason for your tears, but even he could not help himself with that one. He could no longer take you in his arms, hold you until you felt alright again, and see the face that he loved so dearly in the mornings with him. Your eyes begged for him to see reason, but he had resigned to the fact that he was too far gone for your love. You, and like all the others, could never fix someone as broken as him. Severus thought of himself as a lost cause. 

_Just give us one last chance,_ he thought, as he watched you leave.


	23. Elusive

27th April 1992

It seemed as if the weather could sense your melancholy. When you uncovered your eyes from the comfort of your quilt the next morning, soft raindrops had tapped on your window, the wind outside howling in a low pitch. It was a perfect weather to stay in bed, really, but you had lessons to teach and papers to plan for, and as much as you hated the idea of having to do anything else but wallow in your sorrows, you had to get up. 

It was nearly time for breakfast. You were just about to get up and go for a shower when you noticed a small package by your door. It was neatly wrapped, the person who had sent it obviously putting in great care when they were wrapping it. Upon a closer look, however, your heart sank. 

_The items you left in my room.  
SS._

Inside were all the robes and sleepwear that you had resigned to leaving in Severus' room, because back then, it would have been easier to simply have some of your stuff in his quarters whenever you chose to stay the night. Most of them had been there since before you got together, and they smelled strongly of his laundry. It was only the start of the day, but it was worse than you had imagined it to be. Staring at the package, you felt the tears rim your eyes again, reality sinking harder. _It really was over._ You felt the dread in your bones, threatening to pull you down into its depths of despair. Collapsing on the floor, you held one of the robes you had left in his room since the start, the scent comforting, and began to cry. If even being separated from him for a day felt like this, you were not sure how you were going to last through the year having to look at him everyday. _Looks like you were not going for breakfast after all_.

It must have felt like hours until you looked up at the clock again, realising you had ten minutes to your first lesson. You had to go, no teacher would take a sick day just because they were heartbroken. _What kind of excuse was that? Oh, you got dumped, so it was alright to neglect your duty as an educator? Poor thing._ Slowly, you got up, the room still spinning from all the energy you spent crying your eyes out.

The classroom was full of discussion and mingling voices again as you entered. _The whole world is really out to get me today_. Truth be told, you had no strength to even raise your voice at them, but when a Gryffindor boy's voice rang clearly through the crowd, you lost it. 

"Yeah, only the both of them were absent from the high table again, must've been snogging each other's face off. I bet Professor's Snape—”

"Professor Snape and I are not together!" Your cry echoed through the classroom, causing all the students to stop and stare at you in shock. They could recognise the fragility in your voice, brittle and indicating your readiness to break down at any moment. Immediately taking their seats, you knew that was the first time you had yelled in a class. It must have also been the first time they were _afraid_ of you, too. You thanked them silently before beginning the lesson, trying your hardest to hold yourself together. 

11th May 1992

Two weeks. That was how long you had been alone. How long since Severus broke up with you, how long since he practically started treating you like a ghost, how long since you have been to his room, laying next to him, hearing his heartbeat as you slept, kissing him when he woke up. Two long, gruelling weeks. 

Furthermore, the exams were just around the corner. By then, you had already prepared the papers and everything was set to go, but the students were more stressed than ever, and since your subject was not the easiest class to master, you could safely say you were kept occupied by consultations around the hour. It seemed as if your office had become a regular hangout spot for the students, with it never being empty until the wee hours of the night. Even those who were not under you, had come to you asking for your help, since _Quirrell_ could not be bothered. You were grateful, of course, since it could take your mind off Severus. Seeing him everywhere, him being so close yet so far, physically hurt. He was right in front of you, but you could not touch him, hold his hand, hug him, or pull him in for a kiss like you used to. These days, he would not even _look at you_ when you passed by each other on your way to your rooms. You missed him, so so much, but of course, he was the one to break things off. _What makes you think he would miss you too?_

"(y/n), (y/n)!" Minerva was snapping her fingers in front of you. Jolting back, you realised that _she_ was in your office, instead of the usual student asking for help. 

"Minerva, what are you doing here?" It was nearly midnight, and you remembered the last seventh year had just left a few minutes ago. 

"I came to check on you. Well, Severus..." she was wary, gauging your reaction, "...Severus told me to check on you. Wait, let me correct myself. He specifically told me that you were causing a ruckus, all with allowing students to come into your office at ungodly hours of the night for their final revisions, says you were _disturbing_ his peace and quiet. But really, he meant well. He wanted me to check on you. "

"Well, he can do that himself. I'm fine, and I'll try to keep it down the next time." You needed to appear cordial, friendly in front of Minerva if she was ever going to get off your case. 

"(y/n), I know. About you and Severus." Her voice sympathetic, Minerva reached out to hold your hand. You broke off from your marking for a moment, turning to look up at her. Her face was filled with _pity_ , as if you and Severus were some kind of pet project she had going on, and now that you two were over, she felt bad for the heartbroken and dumped girl who was not good enough for her striking male lead. 

"It's fine, I'm fine, Minerva. You can tell him that."

"He also told me about your job offer."

You hesitated. What were you supposed to tell her then? That you were leaving the school, all because you and the man you loved separated? Or that you were staying, but having to look at the man who broke your heart every single day was killing you? 

"I...haven't made a decision on that one," you replied honestly, your eyes drifting to the job contract that had been on your bedside table for the past two weeks. 

"Well, for whatever it's worth, I think you were an excellent addition to the staff. It would be an incredible loss to Hogwarts if you left. We love you, the students love you," Minerva started, her hand gripping yours tighter, "But we cannot force you to stay. That decision is yours, and only yours."

1st June 1992

It was exams season. There seemed to be sort of a deathly silence that had settled over Hogwarts, the students working themselves late into the night, the library, which had previously only had few inhabitants daily, now filled with noses buried in books. Quirrell was getting more and more suspicious, but so far, that was the only thing that could get you going. You and Severus still had an unspoken agreement over him, and it was the only time that the both of you talked. Albeit the conversations were limited to a few sentences, but it was in that few sentences that you allowed yourself to relish _being_ with him again. His eyes, his lips, his cologne, it was all you could think about whenever you were with him. He, on the other hand, did not seem to care. He treated you indifferently, sometimes worse than the other professors, sometimes treating you like a _child_ again. 

No matter, you were leaving anyway. With nothing to possibly stay for, you had made the decision to sign the job contract Kenneth had offered you. Your job was mostly done, the students were taking the exams now, and you had wrapped up your teaching for the year, which meant, you technically had fulfilled your service in the contract you signed with Dumbledore. Nobody knew, of course, but secretly, you had been training, as well. In the wee hours of the night, if anyone bothered enough to get their heads out of their books for once, they could see a flash of white robes whizzing through the Quidditch pitch at breakneck speeds, almost looking like a rocket. Kenneth had sent you the charms and potions he was talking about, and they did greatly help your recovery time, alleviating a lot of the pain that had flared.

There was one incident, though, that lasted longer than the two or three sentences you and Severus would exchange. The professors were all in the staffroom, discussing how the current ongoing exams were going. Minerva and Sprout dominated most of the conversation, while the rest of you sat back, only contributing a few words here and there. Severus was beside you, but the both of you were still not talking. Suddenly, a timid knock on the door could be heard. It was midnight, so the student behind it must have had some sort of emergency, to risk House points by coming to a room full of professors, this late. 

Harry Potter opened the door, his eyes immediately finding yours.

"I-I came to look for Professor (l/n)." His voice quivered. 

"And for what matter if I may ask? May I remind you that it is midnight, Potter, and that you are breaking school rules," Severus' voice was the one that replied him. He looked stern, his fists clenched, as if ready for any opportunity to reprimand the boy. 

"Yes, but I...I have these pains, all over—”

"If you are unwell, you should have visited Madam Pomfrey, not come looking for Professor (l/n) as if she was your _mother_ , Potter. She is a teacher, not your nurse." Severus was scaring the boy, and if you did not step in soon, you would lose the trust him and the other students had given you, and you were not risking it. Clicking your tongue at Severus, your eyes told him to _back off_ , before heading for Harry. 

Kneeling in front of him, he softly pointed to the top of his head, where it hurt. You moved his fringe slowly, and touched the lightning-shaped scar he had, before he flinched and yelled out in pain. _The Dark Lord_. Turning back, all the other professors had the answers in their eyes as well, confirming your suspicions. No wonder he did not go to the infirmary, because even if he did, there was nothing she could do about _that_. And it was hurting him, the pain stabbing and unrelenting. He could not possibly focus on the rest of his exams carrying on like this, so taking out your wand, you silently casted the spell that Kenneth had so kindly taught you that would relieve his pain for longer. He visibly relaxed, and in a surprise turn of events, moved forward to hug you. 

Your eyebrows raised, as you awkwardly patted his back, until he felt it was alright to let go. "Thank you, thank you, Professor (l/n)!"

"Run along now, you've got a History of Magic exam tomorrow.” You smiled at him, and he beamed as he moved to close the door, but Severus' voice stopped him. 

"Fifty points from Gryffindor. For taking up Professor (l/n)'s time and energy Madam Pomfrey could have given you, and for breaking school rules this late at night." Harry looked at you in horror, and you glared resentfully at Severus. _The boy was in pain and needed help, why would he—_

"Fifty points to Gryffindor. Professor Snape's being ridiculous. Off you go, Harry." You shut the door hurriedly, not wanting Harry to be any more involved in the argument the potions professor was starting. 

"I said, fifty points from—"

"Honestly, Severus, don't you think it's a little unfair to the boy, when he came in with a _medical emergency_ , and you are taking away his points because of that?" You crossed your arms, already preparing the argument in your head. 

"Well, (y/n)," If you were going to use his first name, so was he in using yours, "The boy was _clearly_ aware of the rules he was breaking, and he still chose to do it anyway. And frankly, as your _senior_ professor, it would seem that I know the rules better than you do," he shot back, and you could feel your veins grow hot. _Why was he like this? Was anger his only coping mechanism when dealing with you?_

"But we are equals now, aren't we? Dumbledore should be the only one here that has the decision to override the points, and clearly he is not!" Dumbledore was at a meeting in London, which left the position to Minerva, but she, like the other professors, chose not to get themselves involved over an argument about house points. 

"You are too lenient on the students, that's why they have been treating you like a friend, not a teacher!" Severus' voice rose, and Quirrell seemed like he wanted to back up against Minerva. 

"Yeah, maybe having a friend would be better than having a lover who invalidates your decisions as soon as the two of you are no longer together."

Severus looked like he was ready to explode. His form exuded an animosity like acid, burning and potent. Without another word, he walked past you and slammed the door with so much force you flinched. He must have woken up the whole castle. 

2nd June 1992

"You say that he cares, he means well, he wants to know if I was alright, well he can go and hex himself with those lies! I hate him, I hate him so much!" 

Minerva said nothing. She knew it was better to let you rant and rave until you were calmer, or she would risk getting caught in your flames too. With a cup of tea in her hand, she watched from the comfort of her office chair as you paced around her office, clearly stressing yourself out over the argument the previous day. 

"He does mean well, dear. He did not want you to be taken advantage of, that was his way of showing it. I know that does not seem like it, but Severus has a...unique way of showing his care. "

"And how would you know that?"

"Because _he_ was doing the exact same thing you are doing right now. Only difference is, he tells me that despite all that, he still _loved_ you."

You stopped, giving her a cold look. _This woman has really gone insane,_ you thought as you threw yourself onto an armchair. Severus did not love you anymore, that much you knew. Between avoiding you like the plague, giving you a harder time than all the other professors, and often going into your classes to interrupt (though in his words, he wanted to _check how everything was going_ ) and micromanage, it was like he had more detest for you than he did for Harry Potter. 

"You're lying." He could not have said that, even if he did, he did not mean it. No, he could not possibly have said that, your brain would not allow yourself to process that he said that. He was clearly toying with your feelings, trying to manipulate you by taking advantage of the one thing you still had for him, your love. 

"My dear girl, the one thing about us Gryffindors, is that we tell the truth with no fear for its consequences."


	24. Where To Hit Hardest

7th June 1992

The exams had finally ended, and both you and the students could afford to have a sigh of relief. The best way to do that, of course, would be to spend time on the Quidditch field. You were alone, and it was nearly two in the morning, but you always did enjoy the night better. It made your eyes more observant of the things around you, the dark making it infinitely harder to spot a Snitch, which was the greatest advantage a Seeker could wish for. Racing past the field over and over again, you were glad there was no one around. One collision with you and they would have landed straight in the forbidden forest, with the force and speed that you were going.

It was exhilarating, really. You had missed this feeling. Successfully teaching a concept that you thought the students would find difficult to understand, seeing your Ravenclaws win house points, or even seeing Harry Potter win a Quidditch match, could never compare with the adrenaline you felt while flying on your broomstick. Now, like this, with the blood roaring in your ears and your hands clutched tight on the broom, you could confidently say that you were in love with a feeling. It was addictive, like a drug that had enraptured your senses. 

Severus watched from a distance. He had watched for days now, you alone, practising into the wee hours of the night. He reminded himself that he did not care, that he had no right to worry about you anymore, that although he still loved you, you were no longer his. He could no longer gaze lovingly at the way your hair flew gracefully in the wind, the look of pure happiness on your face, or the way your body moved gracefully on the whizzing broom. _You were happy_ , and who was he to take that away from you by begging you to stay? 

He heard. Minerva told him. To be exact, he had cornered her one night, wanting to hear your decision. When she told him that you were leaving, he did not know why the crushing pain in his heart from breaking up with you felt even worse. You would be gone, and he would not have to see your face and be bitterly reminded of your memories together, which would be a good thing, right? Which meant that, Severus did not have to put himself through the pain of avoiding you, only stealing brief glances when you looked at somebody else, or walking up to your room every night with the thought of him begging you to take him back, to forgive him, ever again. He had expected this. He knew, that with nothing left for you at Hogwarts, you would see no reason why you should not leave. Get away from the place, _from him_. But still, it hurt to hear you were leaving. 

Now all Severus could do was watch you from a distance. Perhaps, it would mean loving you from a distance too. You had made the biggest impact in his life, but he would probably only be a bump on yours. A mistake, a past that you wanted to forget about. The thought of you being with someone else was all it took for Severus to pull out from his intrusive thoughts and focus on the present. You were still there, and he needed to enjoy every last moment he had. 

You were laughing, joy written all over your face as you dismounted your broom and practically skipped the way back. He still found it endearing, after all this time. Checking his watch, he realised it was nearly four. He had been watching you train for three hours, since you started at one, but time would fly by whenever he was with you. It always does. 

Sighing, he silently walked back to his quarters, alone.

18th June 1992

You were sitting on the soft grass with the Ravenclaw Quidditch players, talking and laughing about the past school term. They had a Quidditch match the next week, and they were currently taking a break with you, the refreshments you had prepared for them well-liked by their rumbling stomachs. Thalia was sitting next to you, arguing once again on strategies with the captain, the Beaters were throwing a Bludger around not far away, and the Seeker was laying softly to your right, the sugar from the food you gave them claiming his body already. You would miss this, you realised. Taking in the scene before you, you knew you would want to keep it in your memory forever. The Ravenclaw players and you had gotten incredibly close during the span of the Quidditch season, and although they did not know that you were leaving yet, you already felt sad about letting them go as well. 

"Our final match is next week with the Gryffindors, Professor (l/n)! You have got to spill everything you know about Harry to us. Gryffindor's never lost a match with him around, and all the hard work we've put in in beating Slytherin and Hufflepuff would be for nothing if that boy beats us!" The captain turned to face you. They were obviously a little intimidated by the idea of Harry, the incredibly talented Gryffindor Seeker, playing against them, but you assured them that they had nothing to worry about. As long as they had put in the effort, and their head was in the game, they would win, no surprise on that. You had been there to personally oversee their trainings, and you could not be prouder of how much they had improved with your guidance. It felt almost bittersweet, like seeing your children finally spread their wings and fly in their last Quidditch match of the season. 

"You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I was with you guys the whole time, how would I know how the Gryffindor team is training? Harry Potter has talent, but you have hard work. And hard work would beat talent any day if talent chooses not to work hard."

There was an agreement, a few murmurs here and there, but they thanked you regardless, for all the time and effort you had spent with them. They knew it was a privilege that you even wanted to work with them, so it would be a waste of your talents if they did not end off the year playing against a professional for once. In fact, it was Thalia who had suggested the idea one night, and for once, her and the captain could agree on something. 

"Actually, Professor (l/n), there's something else we want from you," Thalia said as she wrapped up the last of her sandwich you had prepared for her. 

"What is it?"

"We...want you to play a match with us," The captain continued this time, and your eyes stared at his quizzically. You had been training by yourself, they knew, but to be involved in your first match in over a year, and with _students_? It was an exciting opportunity, and it would be the first and last time they would have the chance to play with you, but you did not know if you should. 

"You would not stand a chance."

"Try us," Thalia was standing over you then, offering you your broomstick that they had carefully taken from your quarters when you were busy handing out their refreshments earlier, and you glared at her when you saw it. "Sorry," she muttered sheepishly, but she was not sorry at all.

You stared at each one of them for a while, gauging what you should do. They all gave you a thumbs-up, the widest smiles on their faces. It was not enough to convince you, and you were just about to push the broom away from Thalia's hands when you saw it. _Those goddamn signature Ravenclaw puppy eyes_. You really had to march up to their common rooms one day and give them a piece of your mind on using those inappropriately. 

Huffing, you snatched your broomstick away from her, before standing. The team erupted in cheer, applauding you, before fighting over who would be lucky enough to be on your side. 

"One game, and I won't go easy on you. You're playing with an ex-professional, so prepare yourselves as such," you warned, but Thalia, who was now your opponent, scoffed. You were about to hit her for mocking you, but she laughed too. 

"Okay, but you're basically a grandmother now, considering you graduated five years ago. So be prepared to be beaten by your young and youthful successors, _prof_.” She managed one last insult before kicking off, narrowly dodging your death glare.

The adrenaline in the air was intoxicating. You were in your element, whizzing through the night skies, narrowly avoiding Bludgers thrown towards you, keeping your eyes wide open for any sign of a golden object flying past. It was familiar, the feeling. The Ravenclaw players really were good, both teams balancing each other out, the scores always competitively close. You wondered how anybody could not get addicted to Quidditch after playing, it was everything for you. 

Making your final round around the pitch, you felt a familiar excitement bubble through you as you spotted it. The Golden Snitch. Diving down as fast as you could, you were on the chase. The other team's Seeker, upon seeing you flying at a breakneck speed past him, immediately took notice of it too. He chased shortly after, but he was no match to your years of experience and skill. He was lagging behind, you and him knew it. The both of you zigzagged past the Beaters, Chasers and Keepers, their robes of blue and bronze now a blur, like specks of colour in a grand painting. The Golden Snitch took a particularly hard turn to the right, and grunting at the slow stabbing that had started to flare, you decided to take a risky manoeuvre, in an attempt to distract the opponent further. 

Severus was making his rounds around the castle, before settling at his favourite place to watch you. He had expected you to be on the field, watching as the Ravenclaws practise, possibly with a stack of papers in your hand, or a book you had been poring over in the past week. You knew not to get involved in their trainings, in the past, Severus would be there to watch over you in case you tried to kill yourself again. But now, he had no right, all he could do was watch. And he hated that so much, because when he saw you whizzing at impossible speeds in the air, narrowly missing the students many times, he wanted so badly to get on his own broom to knock some sense into you. _Does she not remember what happened the last time she got herself involved with those wretched Ravenclaws?_ He could only stand by the sidelines, ensuring that he would be there if anything happened to you.

As Severus was about to settle for the night in a seat by the stadium, he noticed something was amiss. He was not alone. 

"Lumos," he growled as he came closer to where a sound had previously rang in his ears. No student should be allowed outside this late, unless they had special permission, like training for Quidditch. And it was painfully obvious that whoever the student was, was not a Quidditch player. His wand in front of him, Severus walked closer with caution, ready to chew out whoever it was hiding behind. He swore if it was Harry Potter or any of his friends again, he would—

It was Quirrell. He paid no attention to Severus, however. The man looked impossibly thin then, his eye bags so deep it looked like it had sunken his whole face, and his movements even more unsure than before. What the school had done to him, Severus would never know. But as he stared down at the man for longer, he noticed his wand was out, and he was cursing at something. Severus watched his line of vision lead to somewhere on the field, and upon realising what he was doing, he roared in anger. 

"NO! GET AWAY FROM HER!" But it was too late, Quirrell had completed his curse. In the moments Severus took to find out where his eyes were looking, he had realised Quirrell had been looking straight at _you_. You were falling then, from high, high in the air. You had lost control of your broom, with it knocking you straight off of it, sending your body hurling at an insane speed towards the ground. Because of the force and speed you were flying at, it was impossible to land safely when you had been knocked off, Severus knew that. He stormed up to Quirrell, his wand ready to curse Expelliarmus at the man, but he turned towards Severus now, the fear in his eyes replaced by a dark, twisted look. 

"She's falling, Severus. And she is going to _need_ you. With the way that she is falling now, you and I know she is going to die if you don't get to her soon enough.” He was smiling, and Severus could not control his blood boiling, "So it is your choice, Severus. Would you waste the time killing me, or saving her, when she needs you most?" 

He had put Severus in a predicament. In all the time that he thought he knew Quirinus Quirrell, all that he understood about him, he would never expect that he knew where to hit Severus hardest, you. He had underestimated the man in the turban, and he was paying the price of it now, with the dilemma he was left with. Gripping his wand impossibly tighter, he scrunched his eyebrows, his face unreadable. Quirrell was still smiling that lopsided smile of his, and Severus wanted so badly to knock it off his face into oblivion. Raising his wand, he was about to make the man pay when he heard it. 

It was a loud thud, before all he could hear were the shocked gasps of the Ravenclaw team. Tearing his eyes away, he nearly collapsed at the sight. You were lying in a pool of your own blood, your body full of cuts and wounds as you tried to steer your fall off a little to save yourself, which resulted in you falling through the trees before you eventually landed on the ground. You had been hit straight into unconsciousness, and from the looks of it, you were in a pretty horrible state. Swallowing, Severus gave a final glare at Quirrell, before rushing over to your side. 

He had let the man go, for you. Everything in his brain was telling him that Quirrell was going to the stone, using you as a final distraction for Severus, and that once he had it, The Dark Lord would be able to rise again. Severus was screaming at himself not to let Quirrell go, but his heart could not listen to his body. He had to go to you. He had to save you. No, you were not allowed to die because of Quirrell. 

"Out of the way! Move!" He pushed through the students roughly, not caring what they thought of him and you then. He needed to see you. He could not fathom losing you, the only person he had truly loved more than life itself. He would not know what he would do if he lost you. 

Severus checked your pulse. _You were still alive_ , even that small detail, gave him immeasurable relief. He dared not look at your body for too long, he was afraid he would lose it in front of all the students. Scooping you into his arms, he winced. You were so small, so fragile, and in that moment, he swore, there was nothing that scared him more than _losing you_. Your head had lolled to the side, resting against his arms, and he barked orders for the rest of the students to clear the way, to alert Dumbledore of Quirrell, anything, so that he did not have to _look_ at you. No, he could not break down now, not when you needed him most. 

He was running. He could not even remember the last time he had ran so fast, filled with adrenaline, with his heart in his mouth. You needed to be treated right away, and Severus cursed himself for not being able to run any faster than he was doing now. 

"Sev—erus." He nearly lost it when you spoke. Looking down at you for a brief moment, he felt his heart plummet to the depths of despair at your bruised, beat up face. 

"It's going to be okay, love, it's going to be okay, I'm here, you're going to be okay." He was not sure if he was assuring himself, or you. 

But you had smiled at him, because that was all your muscles would allow you before the bursting pain took over your body. 

"My hero," you managed to say before the darkness claimed you.


	25. Familiar

18th June 1992 

You wonder if Severus had ever seen blood in the moonlight. It appeared quite black, thick like molasses. Right then, lying on the floor of the Quidditch pitch, surrounded by the horrified faces of your students and the trees rustling in the wind, all you could think of was whether Severus knew, that blood appeared black in the moonlight. It was your blood, that you had been seeing. There was a deep gash on your left leg, you knew, because that was the first thing that landed on the tree, your skin ripping through it before you landed. There was something warm, wet under your back, and you knew it too came from another wound on your side. Even breathing felt difficult. If this was what it came to, how it would end, it would be one hell of a death, wouldn't it? You, dying doing what you loved. It was poetic, yet ironic. 

And suddenly, there was him. He was all you could see, his face stricken with anxiety as he pushed through the students to get to you. By then, you were slipping in and out of consciousness, so when he moved to scoop you up from the ground, the stabbing, burning pain that had enveloped your whole body overwhelmed you so much, that you passed out. But between his heavy breaths and the sound of his running footsteps, you managed to force yourself to stay awake a little longer, for him. You needed him to calm down, you needed him to be okay. 

You called out his name, and in his panic he kept assuring you that everything was going to be alright, typical of he to do so. He was always so confident, so calm, as if nothing could faze him, but right then, his face scrunched in worry, his speech broken in an attempt to save his energy, you realised he looked _scared_. Severus was never scared, which meant that he cared about you still. He still wanted to _save_ you, despite all that you had done to him. 

"My hero." 

19th June 1992

Severus was crying. He never cried, but right then, sitting by your bedside with Madam Pomfrey doing everything in her power to save you, he cried. His wracking sobs were so desolate, so raw, that Madam Pomfrey had no heart even to ask him to step back. He was gripping your hand so tight, it hurt him as well. He watched with glassy eyes as Madam Pomfrey performed a series of spells to mend your wounds, to allow your body to reabsorb the blood you had lost, and to _try_ fixing the injury to your left knee. 

"It's unsalvageable, that one," she whispered to Severus. 

"C-can't you regrow the bones? S-she leaves next week, back to her Quidditch team." Severus was reminded of the dreadful event the following week, and he hoped, dearly hoped, that Madam Pomfrey would not chase him out, so that he could spend these last remaining days with you by your side. 

Madam Pomfrey scoffed, before shaking her head apologetically. "Severus, she is _never_ going to be able to play again. I can break her remaining bones, regrow them as much as I can, but her recovery would take weeks, months, even, and she would need someone by her side all the time. It's not going to be easy learning to walk again. But one thing is for sure, you and I know her body could never handle the stress of that game again."

The Potions professor did not know how to tell you that. 

22nd June 1992 

Everything hurt. Everything that was not supposed to hurt, hurt. Even opening your eyes felt heavy, as if something had been weighing your eyelids down. There was a faint buzzing in your brain, as if your mind could not handle that your body was already waking you up, drifting away from the comforts of sleep. Groaning, you tried turning to the side, but the lights had blinded your eyes so much that you had to stay in the position you were in for a while, trying to adjust to everything around you. 

You were in the infirmary, the golden ceiling lights and the bleak, brown walls familiar. Though, it was strangely quiet, as if you were there alone. Where was Madam Pomfrey?

"Professor (l/n), you're awake!" No, you were definitely not alone. You could recognise that voice anywhere. 

"Harry," you croaked, your throat incredibly dry. Shifting your gaze towards the bed beside you, you could see the boy was sitting up on his bed, a mountain of candy and get-well-soon cards between the both of you. He was studying you, his face etched in worry. _What on earth was he doing here?_

"Did Madam Pomfrey allow you inside, Harry?"

"N-no, well, I was admitted. "

"For your headaches?"

"No, for nearly dying trying to stop Professor Quirrell from getting the Philosopher's Stone." That got you wide awake. You tried to sit up, but a flash of pain shot through your entire body, and you groaned as all you could do was to turn over to him. 

"What?" He told you everything. From Severus alerting Dumbledore, to him, Ron and Hermione having to get through the enchantments you and the other professors casted to protect the stone, to seeing _Quirrell_ as the one who was looking for the stone, and not who they thought it would be, Severus. You grinned, glad that his name was finally in the clear. 

"I told you he would do no such thing, Potter," you softly murmured to the boy, and he felt his cheeks blush at the guilt of accusing Severus of such things, in front of you as well. 

"Speaking of which, he's told me to call for him when you woke up, which I should have been doing—" Harry ruffled through his sheets, heading out of the room for a while to speak to Madam Pomfrey, before returning to you. "—He's told me he would take away two hundred points from Gryffindor if I didn't alert him right away when you woke up. He's been worried sick, staying by your bedside for the past four days, until Madam Pomfrey could take the sight of him no longer, and demanded that he returned to his quarters to get some proper rest instead of fussing over you. He didn't trust that I could look out for you as well, threatening me every chance he's got," Harry crossed his arms and ranted to you grumpily. 

"That's Professor Snape for you, Harry. Get used to him," you replied. Laying back, you let Harry's words really sink in. _I've been out four days? And he's stayed with me the whole time?_ Merlin, how were you going to thank him for all that he's done? He did not need to be with you all the time, fussing over you so much, you were not even _together_ , for Merlin's sake. He was incredibly kind, that you knew of. Perhaps he felt bad, pitiful for you, that was why he volunteered to stay. 

"Leave us alone, Potter." His deep voice cut through the room, and you watched through the corner of your eye as Harry scurried away to another room in the hospital wing, still staring at him unhappily. Your eyes shifted to him, and you felt your breath hitch. He was wearing the robes you got him, the clothing fitting him perfectly and making him look otherworldly. He looked so handsome, even if his eyes carried a certain sadness in them, even if his face looked like he had not been sleeping for days. Even on his worst days, you still thought he was the most handsome being to you. It was unfair how much you still loved him. 

He settled by your side, not quite knowing how to approach you. 

"I told you, you look absolutely _handsome_ in that robe, Severus," you started. He simply stared, his mouth still not moving. Daring yourself to put your hand over the one he had that was clutching your bedsheets tightly, he visibly relaxed as you smiled at him comfortingly. _Even after all this time, she always has some kind of power over me._

"Madam Pomfrey had to break and regrow your bones," he said flatly, not wanting his emotions to cloud his speech. When he heard that you had woken up, he immediately dashed straight out of the class he was teaching, his heart in his throat. He had to go see you, tell you, what he had decided over the span of those four days. That he still loved you. That breaking up with you was the worst mistake he had ever made, that he _needed_ you. Severus even regretted that he was not there when you woke, instead leaving you to the care of _Harry Potter_. 

"Okay," You did not know how to feel. “Which means...?" You had an inkling of where this conversation was going, but you prayed that it would not come to it. 

"You can never play again." 

There it was. The words hit you like a truck, your eyes shutting as you felt the onslaught of tears ready to glide down your cheeks. You trained so hard, you were finally _happy_ that you could play again, you finally had a _future_ in the sport again, but there it was, Severus tearing those dreams away from you. Quidditch was your life, your home, and stupid _Quirrell_ had taken that away from you. The Dark Lord had taken that from you. Everything was going so well, until Quirrell had to seek revenge, and hit you straight off your broom, nearly killing you in the process. Cursing, you tried to sit up again, but the pain hurt so much you had to fall back, which gave you another thing to be angry about. 

"Madam Pomfrey also mentioned...that you were going to take a while to recover. You know, with the regrowing of your bones and all. She said you needed someone by your side to help you with things in the meantime. I...I was there, so I signed my name. I would understand if you would want someone else of course. Kenneth, Minerva, whoever—” Severus continued, but you had drowned him out. _You could never play again_ , the words replaying over and over in your head. What were you supposed to do now? Face Severus everyday for the rest of your life? Having to be with the man you loved, who didn't love you back, by your side for the next few months? You had nowhere else to go, and you weren't even sure if Dumbledore would renew your contract, considering the hurry you showed in wanting to leave the school for Quidditch again. You were cornered, all out of options. 

"—And I want to say, that—" Why was he still talking? Couldn't he see that you were struggling to even stay calm?

"Severus."

"—I mean it, I mean—"

"Severus, stop talking!" you exclaimed, and he opened his mouth in shock. The effort had taken a toll on you however, because the next thing you knew, the tears that you had been fighting were rolling down your cheek, and the sobs that wracked your body caused the ebbing pain that coursed through your veins to amplify. You wept bitterly then, holding his hand for support. You were hoping he would go away, leave you to cry on your own so he did not have to see the _mess_ that you had become, so that he did not have to take care of the cracks that were falling out of you. But instead, seeing the little bit of space left beside your body, he hopped onto the bed with you. Laying down next to you, he was careful not to move you too much, before allowing you to cry on his chest. You could not even fight him, your tears already in control of your body. All you could do was relish in the fact that he was there, he did not leave, and he _wanted_ to be there with you. 

It must have been nearly an hour until you stopped. Severus stayed. He never moved a finger, his hands only moving to thread through your hair, comforting you as you cried. In that moment, you realised that it didn't matter if he still loved you or not, you still wanted him in your life. It was okay if only you still loved him, you could live with that, but you could not _bear_ to be without him. 

"I am never going to play again, Sev," you said softly, reality sinking in. It was harder to admit that to yourself, above everything else. "I loved it, I loved Quidditch so much. What am I supposed to do now? I have nowhere to go."

 _You could stay. You could stay here with me. I would take care of you, we all would. And I will never let you go again, I will love you with all my heart, I will love you until your broken pieces come back together, until you feel it would all be okay again_ , he thought, but he kept silent. He could never find the right words on what to say to you.

"Quirrell's gone. You are the only Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we have left. Dumbledore would be a fool to let you go," he tried to assure you. 

"But it would be difficult for you and I, wouldn't it? You know, considering our...situation." His heart sank at your words. It was now or never. 

"(y/n)."

You looked up at him, your eyes carrying all the emotions he was afraid to say. 

"I love you. I still do. And you may not love me back, and that is okay. I treated you so poorly, I threw you aside when things got tough, and it was so, so stupid of me to do so. Seeing you there..." He drew a breath, steadying himself, "...in a pool of your own blood, it scared me more than I could say. I didn't know what came over me, but I was deathly afraid. I guess it hit me then; how my life would be with you gone. It was scary, how much your presence had control over me. I could not deal with the fact of losing you, you know. I wouldn't know how to _live_ with myself if you had died. You are so, so important to me," He studied you then, you still in his arms, not moving. "You have no idea how much you mean to me. And if I could take it all back, I gladly would. I want you back in my life, to be there in the mornings when I wake, to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes, and the last thing I see before I close them at night. I want to be able to hold your hand, to hug you with all my might, to kiss you with all I have. I want...to be with you, through thick and thin. Nobody else, only you. The thought of you with someone else, or you gone, it hurts me so much. When I heard you were leaving, I tried so hard to be happy for you, I did. But how could I? You were leaving me, forever. You are the love of my life, and I cannot imagine my life without you. So please, I understand if you don't, but I am begging you, to take me back. Let me be yours again."

You were still. He studied your face, his eyes searching desperately for an answer. He half expected you to push him away, to ask him to leave you alone, that after all that he had done to you, _how dare he_ ask you to take him back? He was broken, damaged, and you were too good for someone like him. It would hurt him deeply, but he would accept it. He had to. Some part of you was better than none of you. 

What he did not expect, however, was for you to burst into tears again. Raising his brows, he instinctively reached out to comfort you, and you buried yourself into his chest again, holding onto him for dear life. 

"Severus," He could hear faintly the rasp in your voice when you spoke, "I-I'm still in love with you too. T-the two weeks you were gone, I had missed you so much," You paused to catch a breath through the tears, "I could not bear to leave, do you know that? I love you so much, I yearn for you every second of every day. But you..." You looked up at him, and he could see the storms in your eyes, "...You pushed me away. And I know I should hate you for it, but I could never hate you, you should know that. You are my heaven on earth, but if you _dare_ leave me like that again, I swear, you would not live to see another day."

He chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer. Kissing the crown of your head, he was sure you could hear his heart race at the privilege of being able to do that again to you. 

"I'm sorry, love. I promise never to do that again."

"It's alright. You saved my life, so we are equal. And you did sign yourself up to be my caretaker, which is frankly, very stupid of you, but you would have a lot of time and opportunities to apologise then." You leaned up to kiss him, and all at once, the butterflies were there again. He could not believe how lucky he was. Even after all that life put him through, there was still light at the end of the tunnel for him.

"I will always watch over you, take care of you. This, I swear."

"You really think I'm worth so much fuss? I can be incredibly difficult, you know, Sev."

"Every bit of it."

There were a million other things he had to worry about. The Dark Lord rising again, the Philosopher's Stone destroyed, having to care for your injury and worrying about your recovery process, were only few of the things that had riddled his mind. But right then, with you in his arms, your breathing soft and slow, and your arms around his waist, he thought, that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright. 

He could conquer anything as long as you were by his side. It was familiar, the feeling. The feeling of falling in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for being a part of this wonderful journey with me <3
> 
> i cannot stress enough how much u guys mean to me, ur comments making me smile when i read them and motivating me to keep doing what i do. 
> 
> severus snape is the most complex, complicated, and misunderstood character, and i love him so much. rowling did not do him justice, and in my own way, i wanted it for him. 
> 
> i plan on carrying on to the other books as well, so i hope you would stick with me through this process, and allowing me to be able to do what i love. 
> 
> stay safe, and i will see u in the chamber of secrets.


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